Whispers in the Dark
by ashleysweetlywritesx
Summary: (Re-write) Chelsea nearly ruins her chances early in her career by turning to drugs and a bad influence. Finally, she returns to the WWE after completing rehab, finding a lot has changed since she left. Still broken, she throws herself into her work to re-solidify her career, leaving no room for anything else. Enter the Shield, who begin to change her entire life. OC/Reigns/Jeff
1. Chapter 1

**Oh yes, I did!  
**

 **I'm going to begin to re-write this story. As I've grown as a writer, I feel that I could write this more strongly than I have before. I'd also like to eventually continue this series in the future, because I think more can be told from this.**

 **That being said, yes, I've already written it. However, I am resurrecting this and making it better. This is originally called, "All That's Left of Me." So, without further adieu, here is the prologue.**

* * *

 _ **Prologue: A few years prior...  
**_

 _The young woman knelt next to the coffee table, which had marks and scratches branding the once perfectly smooth exterior. The hotel room wasn't much better; and in fact, neither was she. She'd become just as damaged as that table. Her skin was now sullen, her muscle losing the tone she'd had. Any time she took a spill, a bruise would form quickly. She had bruises around her waist where the man had pulled her into him, leaving marks on the insides of her thighs and scratches across her lower back._

 _She was hopelessly in love with the man, and even though she would admit that he was sometimes too rough with her fragile state, it was proof that he loved her just the same. She was lucky, to say the least, to have someone like him around._

 _She watched pensively as the purple-haired man across from her quickly snort his line of perfect white powder, tilting his head back as his eyes watered. He made a guttural sound, the same sound he normally made as the high began to take over his body. It was a sound of euphoria, something that he only did when he was in an extreme amount of pleasure. She should know, he did this often when he would come during their sexual entanglements...  
_

 _"Come on, Chels, do your line. We gotta get out of here soon, otherwise people are going to suspect shit," he caught her staring at him, admiring him as she always did. How he took the drug down like a professional, the way he looked when he was satisfied with the product. Fuck, she just couldn't help but think the world of the man. Because he was her world. He was her everything.  
_

 _Snapping out of her daze, Chelsea quickly finished her own, falling backwards against the stained hotel couch. Her frail, nude body shivered, not only from the cold bite from the drafty, broken window in the run-down room, but the sudden rush she'd gotten._

 _"Jeff," she murmured, grabbing on to the drink she'd mixed for herself earlier. Her eyes began to close lazily, a small smile forming as she spoke his name. She could hardly wrap her hand around the foam cup that had been supplied generously by the hotel, next to the coffee pot that had a spiderweb crack in it, deeming it unusable. Shit, she was high, and whatever Jeff's supplier had gotten them this time had been fantastic._

 _No, this wasn't anything new to either of them; drink some cheap and terrible rum and Coke, do some lines, have sex, maybe smoke some pot. She liked it when he'd give her his prescription Adderall, which riled her up greatly in the ring. He claimed it made him into a zombie, his mind turning to mush. He told her that he felt like he was just going through the motions of every day life when he was regularly taking his medication, and he was a free-thinker. He didn't want to feel that he had no control over his own life. She, on the other hand, loved the extra energy she gained from the pills; she was more daring, more agile, and felt as though she could defeat anyone.  
_

 _He had only given her heroin only once, but she knew better than to continue with that. Her best friend from high school was seriously hooked on it now, and would do anything to keep using. She'd even lost her daughter to the state because of it. Chelsea wouldn't lost everything she had worked for for a drug that made her lethargic; that wasn't the kind of thing she was looking for. She didn't need to relax, rather, she wanted to feel like a superhero. That's exactly what the cocaine did, so that was what she tended to stick to.  
_

 _It was a vicious cycle between the two of them, and a painful one. This convenient, drug-induced relationship had been going on between the two of them for a while now._

 _But Chelsea also knew that this was where their relationship started and ended. Jeff used her for her body when his girlfriend was at their home in North Carolina, and she was sadly hooked on everything about this man. From his long, colored hair to his solemn eyes, he was a treat to look at. But it was his mind that she loved more than anything imaginable. They spoke often of the corruption of government, the broken education system, and the influence of media on humans. He was a true artist, and he knew a lot of things about a lot of subjects. There was never a dull conversation between the pair, and she couldn't get enough.  
_

 _Unfortunately, he wasn't willing to break things off with the girlfriend. Though she tried to understand his reasoning, she couldn't; yet she was too enamored that she was willing to accept whatever he was able to give her. That was enough. Being with him during their down time...it was all enough for her._

 _"I love you," she verbalized her thought, and he just shrugged. This further proved the point, and as numb as she felt right now, she couldn't ignore the jabbing heartache searing through her in that moment. She had professed her undying love to him before, and he'd never given her the response she so desperately searched for. She hated herself for wishing things would be different and for waiting around for things to change. She knew deep down they probably never would._

 _Yet she stupidly held on to the little bit of hope that was there. The hope that built within her every moment he laid her down, hungrily kissing her lips. With every careful touch of her most delicate, private areas...and, sometimes, with each angry thrust into her._

 _Jeff stood up abruptly, and took her drink from her hands, placing it back on to the imperfect table. He extended one hand to her, and she shakily gained strength to stand._

 _"If we don't get back to the show now, they're going to realize we're gone," he spoke to her, his eyes searching hers. His were empty, far gone from either the drug or that he simply didn't really care. She, on the other hand, could see straight through to his soul.  
_

 _He pulled in Chelsea for a gentle kiss, which only re-ignited the flame she'd already had for him. She felt the heartache all over again. He could be the biggest asshole in the world to her, but there was a piece of him that was sweet and gentle. And every time she'd let go of all hope, every time she was ready to walk away from their arrangement, he pulled this shit. It was enough to make any girl swoon.  
_

 _"Let's find our clothes and get back," he spoke, his lips still near enough to hers that she could feel the gentle vibration of his words against her mouth. She knew they really ought to, but she had really been hoping for round two, right there on the dirty floor. Yeah, they'd already used up the only condom that they had between them, but that didn't mean they couldn't figure out something else, did it?_

 _"Let's go," Jeff was growing impatient with her, startling her with his rough tone he took. She kept her eyes cast downward from his stare as she began to collect the clothes from the floor that had probably never been introduced to a vacuum. "I can't be late for this match. I was late last week because of you, remember? They had to cancel the whole match. I'm still trying to talk my way out of that one."_

 _Disappointed, Chelsea fumbled as she began pulling a gray thermal hoodie over her messy, stringy, dyed- black hair. She giggled stupidly as she stumbled trying to put her thong and jeans on again._

 _On their way out the door, she didn't bother glancing at herself in the mirror. She probably looked just as fucked up as she felt._

 _She trailed Jeff as he rounded the corner of the city block back to the arena. She'd already wrestled that evening, getting shit-stomped by the Glamazon, Beth Phoenix. She was glad she'd wrestled that one mostly sober, and was proud of her performance. She only had a tiny bit of what she called Magic Juice, which was just a bunch of different assorted types of alcohol mixed together in her small silver flask. Jeff wasn't so lucky, and would be facing Christian in just under an hour from now._

 _She had a definite love/hate relationship with the purple-haired highflying star. He'd offered her cocaine for the first time after she'd pulled something in her elbow, inactivating her from wrestling for three weeks. She was really down that night, and sat at the hotel bar alone, taking shots of whiskey, feeling sorry for herself after being told that she would lose her opportunity to face the current WWE Divas champion, Kelly Kelly. Her injury meant she'd be starting back at the bottom rung of the ladder, and it was a hard pill for her to swallow.  
_

 _It was also the same night she found herself attached to Jeff, entrapped by him so much that even though it should've been suffocating, she didn't want to stay away._

 _She fell hard and fast, and got to know the man quickly. Sometimes it was the alcohol talking, and sometimes it was really him. But their relationship turned physical quickly with the amount of inebriation, and she let herself keep getting sucked in further and further. There was something about Jeff Hardy that kept bringing her back, even if she didn't really want to. She'd stopped hanging out with some of the other women on the roster, letting her close friendship with Natalie "Natalya" Neidhart crumble. Even though they'd trained together at the Hart Dungeon, Natalie no longer spoke to the raven-haired woman. Who could blame her? Chelsea wasn't the same woman that she used to be. She didn't have the same life in her that she used to._

 _But none of that mattered to her. No lost relationships or friendships meant anything. She had Jeff._

* * *

 ** _Later, that same year..._**

 _"Chelsea, we're only doing this because we care about you," Stephanie McMahon sat across from the black-haired beauty, wearing a concerned yet serious expression. She reached out her hand, grasping Chelsea's free hand sympathetically. Chelsea wiped a tear from her eye, her perfect makeup now certainly ruined._

 _She glanced around the office of her boss. It was moderate yet chic, very classic. As she struggled to avoid Stephanie and the director of talent relation's gazes, her red, watering eyes landing on a photograph of the billionaire's daughters. They all looked just like their mother. They were each beautiful, without a care in the world._

 _She was like that once. She was innocent, way back when. She'd worked so hard to become a diamond in the rough. Fought her way through a horrible upbringing, an absent relationship between herself and her father. A strained relationship between herself and her mother. She'd plowed through her courses in high school, keeping her head down and her mouth shut as she was mercilessly teased. Unfortunately, Chelsea didn't have the grades to get much further. It wasn't that she wasn't smart; it was that she had more struggle making it through each day than she could handle.  
_

 _After graduating near the bottom of her class, she'd began her career as a model. By a stroke of luck, she'd auditioned at the local shopping mall to be a model for a lame-ass fashion show that a new, opening store had put on. The same day, she'd been noticed and picked up by an agent who thought her angry, darkened look was "striking" and "becoming," something that wasn't the traditional type of model-pretty, but impossible to ignore._

 _Unfortunately, Chelsea became bored of that business endeavor quickly. She'd done most of her shoots for clothing stores' websites, such as Hot Topic. It paid the bills, and it gave her plenty of leads to work alongside other companies. But eventually, she was overwhelmed and unfulfilled. She knew that her looks could only get her so far in life, and she needed to start thinking outside of her comfort zone.  
_

 _After deciding that she wanted to get a little more serious about finding a potential career, she'd turned her then 19-year-old dreams into reality. Taking the money from modeling and beginning school with the Hart family, Chelsea began training in the Dungeon buried deep in the heart of Canada. She'd seen an ad in a magazine she'd picked up during a modeling gig once in Quebec, and the more research she did, the more she became sold on it. It would get her away from everything she'd been running from, and it was something challenging._

 _That was where she'd met Natalie, who at first hadn't taken kindly to another woman stepping foot into her family's lair. They saw each other as a rival, both wanting to achieve greatness. Both trying to be in the limelight, trying to keep the attention of scouts. While Nat had been training since she was a tiny tot, Chelsea was a fast learner. She picked up on things quickly, and was naturally very talented. Being the only women in the class, they were often paired together. Their constant battle for attention drew them closer in an odd way, and with each passing day, they got to know one another better. After each class, they began to make plans to do things outside of the ring._

 _Eventually, the two became the best of friends, the physically demanding work in the ring bonding them forever. The late-night giggles and the countless dates with a guy Nat had been seeing. The fights Natalie had with her sister. Her dad's drinking problems...Chelsea had been there to experience it all with her, offering as much support as she could in such challenging life issues.  
_

 _After graduating from the Dungeon, WWE had pushed Nat straight to the main roster, having watched her for years because of her family's name. Not to be outdone, Chelsea continued her training with the Hart family, even though she'd technically already graduated. She wanted to be better than she was. She'd been offered an instructor position for the beginner class, which she'd taken with gratitude.  
_

 _In her spare time, she spent hours practicing new moves that she'd seen in other promotions, particularly liking the move sets of men she'd seen on Lucha Underground. She watched matches intently, focusing on the storytelling and how to get momentum and fluidity going. Learning in-ring charisma, watching promos. Every bit of learning she could do, she did it._

 _The next year, the WWE scouts were there once more, this time, looking her way._

 _She'd been given a try-out match prior to a Monday Night RAW the same night the scout had been there. Though it was a dark match without a large crowd present, Chelsea had never worked so hard to shine in the ring before. She'd called each of the spots during the bout for her opponent, fluently executing the moves that she'd practiced tirelessly with Natalie once upon a time.  
_

 _She had done well enough to be given an opportunity to perform with the new developmental program known as NXT, which paired recruits with a 'veteran' member of the roster as some sort of mentor. Her intense and interesting look brought something different to the program, the fans latching on to the darkness that seemed to surround her. Because of her fast success, Chelsea had grabbed the attention of the upper management which, in turn, had offered her a stint on the main roster._

 _But now, it seemed, every step she'd taken to get to where she was now would mean nothing. She'd managed to stray too far from the path to achieve everything._

 _"Once we found out about Jeff Hardy's drug abuse, we had to start testing randomly. You didn't pass," the older woman continued, distracting Chelsea from her short stroll down memory lane. She'd give anything to go back to locking up with Nattie once more in the Hart Dungeon, neither of them knowing the unfortunate events that would await them just a few years away. For Chelsea, though, it seemed her time would be cut much shorter than Nat's. But the only person to blame was herself.  
_

 _"I know, Stephanie, I know," sobbed Chelsea, tears violently spilling down her cheeks. "But I want to change." She could no longer keep her feelings held back.  
_

 _"I want to help you. You've barely made a dent in your career. We really enjoy your performances. That's why we're going to help you with going to Forward Progress—that's one of the country's greatest rehabilitation centers. My dad did Mr. William Regal this favor once, and he improved immensely. As you know, William has become one of the most prominent trainers for our company. Please, don't disappoint me. I have faith in you, just as he did in William. You could become something great with this company, if you allow yourself to. The only person holding you back from achieving everything you possibly can is yourself. That being said, you will be obligated to complete this course before you are able to begin training in our facilities once again. You need to be back to a hundred percent. I'll be keeping tabs on your progress, and we'll make sure you've got a spot when you're ready to return."  
_

 _Chelsea sobbed loudly, thanking the woman. She knew that she didn't deserve a second chance. She'd heard stories from other former employees of the WWE. That Stephanie McMahon was a bitch, a liar, only looking out for herself and her family. But in that moment, Chelsea was overwhelmed with true gratitude, realization settling in that someone actually believed in her, and was willing to help her become a better version of the person she already was._

 _Then again, anything was better than the person she'd become._

 _She left the boss's office, wiping mascara from her cheeks. Everyone in the arena was already long gone, but she didn't want to risk anyone seeing her as distraught as she was. Chelsea began to feel rage burrowing into her chest; it was odd to feel at all. She had been so numb for so long, the black abyss known as hopelessness had replaced her soul. She dialed Jeff's number quickly on her cell phone, and he answered gruffly, as though she'd just woken him up._

 _"Jeff, they let me go," the tears welled up in her eyes once again. "They killed my dream!"_

 _"Chelsea, knock it off. You knew what could happen," he responded, unsympathetic. Of course he was. He had no chance of coming back. This wasn't his first offense._

 _"I didn't expect to get caught!" she yelled into the mouthpiece, frantic._

 _The man chuckled on the other end._

 _"Listen, Chelsea. Don't call me anymore. You knew what could happen. You knew where our relationship stood. And now I'm reminding you. I'm going to clean up my act, and you should, too. It's time for me to change. Find something new, something better. I don't have a chance to go back to WWE again, but being your first offense, you still have that option. Listen to me, Chelsea. Forget about me. Forget about us..."_

 _"I've decided to ask Beth to marry me," he continued. Those words were enough to form a lump in her throat, the bile beginning to churn in her stomach._

 _..."She makes me happy. You bring me down. You only bring me down, always so needy and wanting more of fix than I can give you. So let's cut the shit, and be honest here. This is the end of anything we had, or what you thought we had."_

 _Chelsea heard the click of the phone, indicating he'd hung up on her. She could feel her stomach dropping as her glowing LCD screen proved the call was lost._

 _No, wait—she was dropping. To her knees. She wept, throwing her phone and shattering it against the brick wall just down the hall from where Stephanie McMahon had just fired her sorry ass. This was, by far, the worst day of her entire life..._

 _Fleeting thoughts of slitting her wrists or drowning herself in her hotel room went through her mind. But she knew that death wasn't the way that she'd get revenge on the man who had tore her into pieces._

 _She silently vowed that she'd prove Jeff wrong. She never brought him down! Not once! It was_ he _who had ruined_ her _life._ He _who introduced the wonderful world of drugs. Jeff was the one who broke her heart. Just like a drug, he built her up so tall and strong, that it was only a matter of time before something so simple could knock her over. All she could do from here was to build herself back up, and become better. Much better. She'd throw all of her energy and focus on getting the help she so obviously needed. She would go back to the WWE and take it by storm, hopefully capturing the title one day.  
_

 _She also hoped that Jeff would live with that guilt on his mind, knowing that he was the reason she had been derailed. That when he'd heard of her return, he couldn't help but to be intrigued. She'd get back to the shape she'd been in when she'd started, and the light would once again return to her eyes._

 _Of course, there was also a hope that while he was sleeping with his soon-to-be wife, he saw Chelsea's face. Felt Chelsea's arms around his neck. Heard her call his name. She wanted to sit in the back of his mind, tearing apart his dreams while he slept. She wanted to haunt him, make his life just as miserable as he had made hers in the past few months.  
_

 _She also vowed that she would never, ever fall back into his trap again. She'd be happy._

 _One day._


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh, this Fastlane PPV is asscrack. So I'm here, writing, for you folks. Love you all!  
**

* * *

Stepping out of the bright yellow taxicab, Chelsea tilted her face towards the arena. She noted how many people were already bustling around, even though the show wouldn't start for nearly eight more hours. She squinted through her white, cheap-o plastic sunglasses from Target, trying to spot anyone that she recognized. She stood rooted to the sidewalk, her long gray coat unseasonable yet doing well at hiding her from any possible paparazzi or fans. Her long hair was pulled back into a thick braid down her back, keeping the strands from blowing into her face with every gust of the sharp Florida wind.

Already, the looming city center intimidated her. She willed her heart rate to slow down a little bit and began walking forward, pulling her luggage bag along. She was nervous to meet again with Stephanie McMahon. They'd spoken on the phone, and that seemed to have gone quite well. Stephanie had been keeping tabs on her during her stay at the rehabilitation facility, even having stopped by a few times on occasion to firsthand see the progress she'd made.

So when Chelsea had been released, passing through each of the classes and therapy sessions with clear focus and ease, Stephanie McMahon had been kind enough to meet with her one-on-one. As it worked out, their schedules allowed to meet in Tampa Bay, which Stephanie had been more than happy to arrange a flight for her.

After a few months of anticipation and dread, today was the day that she'd been waiting for. She would show Stephanie how much she'd changed, the mental clarity going into each day astounding. Chelsea wanted nothing more than to receive a second chance, because she worked hard to get back here. Even though things weren't always easy back in rehab, and she'd had plenty of missteps and heartache there, as well, it also pushed her to become something better. The only problem was, nothing was set in stone yet.

As Chelsea began to walk into the building, she kept her sunglasses on, avoiding any eye contact as she flashed her pass to the security guard, who nodded before allowing her into the side entrance. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized by anyone, at least not yet. She didn't want to be seen not knowing if she actually had a job. It was true that Stephanie had promised her a spot on the roster if she was successful, but when it came down to it, you couldn't rely on a McMahon's word. So while she was hopeful, she didn't want to be let down, ashamed and embarrassed to have her face seen around her former friends and colleagues.

"Well, look who we have here!" a voice called out, one that she recognized with ease. Chelsea whipped around, nearly knocking herself off-balance. Apparently, her incognito hadn't worked as well as she thought it was going to, but instead of feeling frustrated as she should've, she was relieved to see one of the startlingly beautiful women she'd worked with once upon a time; in fact, one that she'd grown quite fond of in the last few years.

Nikki Bella grinned at her, the woman's perfect white teeth gleaming. Chelsea was glad she still had her sunglasses on; to face those teeth, she'd need them.

Nikki gave her a quick, awkward side-hug, still smiling. She wore athletic shorts and a John Cena "Hustle, Loyalty, Respect" t-shirt.

What the fuck? The Nikki Bella that Chelsea remembered kept her private life very, very quiet. After her awful breakup from Dolph Ziggler had happened, Nikki had never wanted to date a co-worker ever again. The fact that she was hanging around in a John Cena t-shirt was kind of out of character for her, and it solidified the rumors that had been swirling on the internet that they were an actual thing. So, that was new. So were the giant tits.

"Nice, Nik. Your boobs grew a few sizes."

Nikki puffed out her chest, pulling her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder to flaunt them better.

"Thanks! I love them. You look a hundred times better than when I saw you last." She nodded towards the Fiji-brand water bottle in Chelsea's other hand. "That better really be water in there, and not vodka," she said, a concerned look shadowing her face for a moment.

"It's definitely water. Trust me, you'd know if it wasn't." Chelsea couldn't help but feel embarrassed by her old friend's comment. Everyone knew she had a problem in the past, but nobody really called her out on it. Certainly, nobody really understood the depth of the issues that had surrounded her back then. Unfortunately, most of her old friends pretended that they didn't know a thing. People turned a blind eye to the mistreatment she'd received from Jeff, and everyone went on with their own busy lives to make sure that she was okay, despite the fact that she looked like a damned gremlin.

It took Chelsea a long, long time not to hold on to that anger that nobody cared about her well-being. It was something that she'd learned she had to do, though. It wasn't that nobody cared, it was that nobody knew how to approach such a sensitive issue.

The pair began walking towards the entrance, and Nikki chattered about her relationship with John, some new show they were doing involving herself and a few other of the divas, and her run for the championship belt.

"Well, if it isn't Wednesday Addams herself!" another voice said, causing the women to turn. It was a nice and welcomed distraction, as it seemed to Chelsea that Nikki had become kind of...self-absorbed.

Brie Bella came bounding towards them, her hair in Indian-style braids and wearing a long, flowy skirt and revealing white tank top. She looked beautiful, every part of her a gypsy warrior.

"Brie," responded Chelsea, giving her other friend a hug.

Chelsea couldn't help but chuckle at her old nickname. When she'd first started, the beautiful blonde bombshell Maryse Ouellet began calling her Wednesday, a reference to the _Addams Family_ , as a personal shot to her somewhat Gothic appearance. Maryse was her "pro" during NXT, and although at the time, the women could not stand each other, they ended up very much respecting one another. They were so very opposite that Chelsea had been jealous of the woman that got to have Kane as her pro, who would've suited her own personal taste much better.

Yet, every angry remark Maryse had made had driven Chelsea to do better, and she'd become a fantastic mentor. She taught her more about the politics backstage than she ever should have known, and had done a fantastic job at peeling off the layers of Chelsea's in-ring persona until she was every bit the raw, talented heel that she was. While Maryse didn't like her or her friendships with the Bella twins, when it came to in the ring, they both left their feelings in the locker room. Last she knew, Maryse had been very successful outside of the WWE, having married Mike "Miz" Mizani and creating a very solid life in home realty.

"You look great," Brie said, pulling Chelsea's black braid. These days, it had teal dye at the bottom, giving it a weird ombre effect.

"A little less Addams family, a little more Malibu Barbie," Nikki commented, comparing her tan to Chelsea's. Chelsea snorted, grabbing her arm away. She did finally catch a little color during her stay at Forward Progress, which was in sunny California. That was no match, though, for Nikki's Latina roots. She would always have the bronze glow to her.

"You and I both know that that's a long shot," Chelsea said, shaking her head as she pulled the sleeve to her jacket back down.

"But for real, Chels, you look good," Brie said again. Chelsea thanked her friends. She had put on about twenty pounds of toned muscle, which was a huge upgrade from the bag of bones she was when she'd started rehab. In fact, at her initial weigh-in, she'd only clocked in at 103 pounds. Her once brittle hair now had a keen shine to it, which (almost) made it look natural. Her skin was radiant, no longer full of pock-marks and blackheads. Her bright blue eyes had color again, the life they used to have in them dancing wildly. Chelsea no longer had the walking dead girl appearance that made her both famous and infamous. She really started to take care of herself, a trait she'd picked up from her roommate in rehab. Straight Forward housed tons of upper class people, including politicians, celebrities, and even lawyers. Chelsea found herself sharing a beautiful ocean view room with a young, talented musician that went by the name of Lennon. They got along immediately; and although Lennon wasn't a big hit on the music scene yet, she knew her stuff. She knew the ropes through the industry. Specifically, she knew that the better you looked, the further you went.

It wasn't purely superficial, of course; but Chelsea learned quickly that it had its upper hand. While she had always thought after she'd given up modeling that she'd never return to the impossible beauty standards, she found that there was a definite and important in-between.

She began to work hard on herself, both the inside and outside. She never wanted to be like Maryse or any of the beautiful divas she'd been surrounded by; she just wanted to be herself. But she also knew a cokehead, trainwreck, hot mess like herself wasn't going to gain the support she needed to go forward. Lennon agreed, showing her the right way to contour and highlight her cheekbones, and even holding her feet down while she did hundreds of sit-ups a day.

"So, where's Nat?" Chelsea found herself asking about her oldest friend at the WWE, the woman who had been along with her nearly every step of the way as she trained for the WWE ring.

Sometime during all the conversation, they had made their way to the empty are, where at least hundred people frantically tried to set up the ring, pyro, and cameras. All of the empty chairs were hugely intimidating. She'd forgotten what it felt like to perform in front of a giant, large crowd.

She'd heard that Natalie had finally gotten married to TJ, the guy that they used to giggle about and whisper about as he, too, would train with some of the other men in their class. That was great news to hear, as TJ had been not only a genuinely nice person but also proudly displayed his love for Nat quite often. Chelsea was slightly saddened that she didn't get an invite to the wedding; though she supposed that she wouldn't have been allowed to go under the strict supervision of the rehabilitation center.

The Bella twins glanced sideways at each other, and Nikki sucked in a breath.

"She's around here, somewhere," she started. "But Chels, she might need a little more time…"

Brie nodded, confirming her sister's words. "She's not too happy about how things between you two went down…"

"No, she isn't," Natalie Niedhart interrupted, joining the trio, looking amazing as always.

 _Had she always been so freakin' pretty?_ Chelsea wondered to herself, but instead of commenting on Nat's new, gorgeous physique, she took note of the look that was on her face. She wasn't smiling at all, definitely not happy to see Chelsea. Instead, she wore a dark scowl, leering at Chelsea as she sized her up.

"Ladies, we're supposed to be doing a promo with Eva Marie in ten minutes. Let me handle this," Natalie clearly dismissed the twins, who waved to Chelsea and left in a flash, undoubtedly not wanting to hear the verbal thrashing that was about to take place.

"Nattie, I wanted to say that I'm so—"

"Save it. You're not sorry, and I know that. Not only did you almost kill yourself and ruin your life, you made the entire Hart foundation look bad! We trained you, we supported you, and I loved you like you were my sister!" Natalie's face was now stained with red, her tone beyond pissed. If she had claws, they'd be out now, getting ready to dig into Chelsea's face.

"But I am sorry," Chelsea said quietly, allowing her voice to tremble. "This meant everything to me. Being here with you, my best friend. That meant the world to me."

Natalie guffawed. "Did it? Or did getting high with that loser Jeff mean more? Because personally, I think it's the latter."

Chelsea felt a pang of sorrow at the mention of Jeff's name. She'd done so well trying to erase that part of her life that she thought she'd be better prepared for just the mere _mention_ of him than she actually was. Natalie must've noticed the pain in Chelsea's eyes, because she laughed a truly bitchy laugh, shaking her head.

"You haven't changed at all," she said, stalking away from her former friend. "If I were you, I would stay far away. I wish you'd stayed in the hole that you crawled out of. You don't belong here anymore."

Chelsea watched Natalie leave up the ramp, nearly knocking over two of the guys who were setting up a spotlight on the floor. Chelsea watched her old friend disappear behind the black curtain, but Nat had never even glanced back. She felt terrible. She didn't exactly understand the diva's motivation for her direct hate. Sure, they had grown close, and they'd grown apart at the hands of Jeff Hardy and his magic white powder. But she didn't understand why that meant they couldn't patch things up.

Taking a deep, overwhelmed breath, she reached to her watering eyes to make sure the tears didn't fall. The last thing she wanted to do was to walk into her meeting with Stephanie McMahon having her heavy, blackened makeup trailed down her face. She would look like a sad clown; more than she already did in that moment.

"Ooh, you're in trouble now," a petite, dark-haired girl was seated in the front row of the arena, not looking up from her cell phone. She had the Divas championship belt on the chair next to her. Her feet were up on the banister: a pair of scuffed red Converse jiggling as she played whatever game it was she was playing on her phone.

Acknowledging the woman, Chelsea walked towards her and sunk down in the seat next to the belt.

"I guess I just don't know what everyone expects," she admitted, feeling strange that she was confiding in this person, even though they didn't know each other. This tiny woman was a stranger, but it was nice. She didn't have any pre-conceived notions about Chelsea based off from the past. So that meant she didn't have any reason to dislike her. At least, not yet.

"I am just happy that I could have an opportunity to return at all," Chelsea continued. "I worked hard for it. I changed my entire life to go back to the start. It's not like I'm stepping on anyone's toes."

"Honestly? She's changed so much since that stupid show," the smaller woman looked up, eyes connecting with Chelsea's. She was pretty; very simple makeup behind dark-framed glasses, with dark hair and soulful eyes. She couldn't help but take note of the glimmering engagement ring on her left hand.

"You're Chelsea," she smiled, extending a hand. "I've heard about you here and there. Not all good," she said pointedly.

As if Chelsea really needed to hear that.

 _So much for not having pre-conceived notions,_ Chelsea thought bitterly, pulling her jacket tightly around her and wishing she could disappear. She briefly wished she hadn't thrown her hair back into a braid; if she hadn't, she could be hiding her reddened cheeks behind her flowing locks. This was awful.

"Well, that's absoltely fantastic," Chelsea said, shaking her head. "I'm fucking trying. This company was my life!" she started to feel her blood boil, then put her feet up on the banister, too. She was beyond frustrated.

"Do or do not. There is no try," the other woman commented. "That's a direct quote from Yoda."

"Star Wars," laughed Chelsea. She felt a little better, having met this nerdy girl. Though she had just admitted she'd heard of her from backstage talk, it was obvious that she hadn't used that information to gather an opinion quite yet.

"We'll get along just fine. As for the Total Divas, I'd watch yourself. They think they have it all made. They kiss a lot of ass, get a lot of things handed to them—including matches. Some of us actually have to work for what we have," she tapped the championship belt next to her.

Chelsea nodded. She knew that the McMahons played favorites often; she supposed in a sense, she was even granted that immunity. After all, under Stephanie's rule, she was able to be here today. Jeff hadn't been so lucky.

"What in the world is Total Divas?" she asked.

"A ridiculous show following some of the girls. Just like Jersey Shore or the Surreal Life. I don't get it. I already put myself out there for the world to see. Why would I want them to see the deepest parts of my life? My fans should like me for my wrestling, not who I'm dating... _ahem, Nikki..._ Some of us like privacy."

Chelsea couldn't believe her ears. The WWE had seriously enlisted divas in some damn reality TV show? She wondered if that was why Nikki was proudly wearing her John Cena shirt, in order to promote him. He needed all the support he could get, she remembered. His career was falling apart, and he was crashing from the top after a pretty gnarly injury. But this chick had had insinuated that Nikki wasn't only Cena's personal cheerleader...

"Yes, the Bellas are on it, too, special guest appearances by their wonderful boyfriends," the woman read Chelsea's mind.

"John Cena and Nikki actually _are_ a thing?" she asked, trying to hide the disgust in her voice. "Wasn't he married?"

Tossing her head back, her confidante laughed. "He was. I don't get it, either. Before the show, I didn't have any issues with the Bellas. Or Natalie, for that matter. But when I declined the invitation to join the show, they all had their sights set on destroying my career. I told them how I felt. I figured Cena was using the show to gain some hype. I always thought John Cena was a bit of a douchebag." she shrugged at the last comment.

 _He was_ , Chelsea thought to herself. _He probably still is._

"Oh, shoot. Where are my manners? My name is April, but you can call me AJ."

"AJ," repeated Chelsea, her eyes wandering to the wretched butterfly belt that was between them. "Diva's Champion."

"Longest reigning, even beating your pro's record," she declared.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow. This AJ really seemed to know her wrestling.

"I was part of the NXT season right after you," she explained. "I watched everything and anything that had to do with wrestling. Anything that could teach me something so that I could make it to where I wanted to be."

"So you know more about me than I want you to know," Chelsea sighed, though she certainly admired that AJ had studied the business with such dedication. Especially because, as Chelsea could remember, NXT was a popularity contest that had ridiculous challenges and no true purpose. What could AJ possibly have learned from that?

"Don't be down on yourself. Seriously, it isn't fair to judge someone based on what they used to do, or who they used to be friends with. For what it's worth, Jeff Hardy was an amazing wrestler."

Pain. AJ seemed to be immune to the hurt in Chelsea's eyes. Or maybe she ignored it. Meeting AJ was a breath of fresh air after all the changes she'd just seen among all of her old friends. AJ was strange and quirky, but she didn't seem to give a shit what the other women thought about her. She definitely marched to the tune of her own drum, which was something that Chelsea envied.

AJ really seemed like her head was screwed on the right way. The other girls, on the other hand...

 _What the fuck was going on?_

"I like your tattoo," AJ turned Chelsea's wrist to show a red and white medical logo, the very same that appeared on Eminem's album, _Recovery_. That whole album was something that Chelsea looked up to. She'd gotten the tattoo to remind herself that someone who had a shitty life, like Eminem, could pull themselves up from the darkness and be the greatest at what they do.

"Thank you," she responded, not ready to explain it.

AJ gave her a warm smile, then her eyes quickly averted upwards. She rose to her feet, hand extended.

"Stephanie, glad to see you," the Divas champion shook her boss's hand. Chelsea rose to her feet, too, a phony smile plastered across her own face. Stephanie looked great as usual, her business suit crisp and her hair styled perfectly. Her lips were pursed; and she was a spitting image of her mother, Linda. It was hard not to feel intimidated by this woman.

"Stephanie," she said in a breath, her heart pounding as it had been when she'd first seen the city center. This was infinitely more nerve-wracking than her walk into the building. She shook Stephanie's hand next, hoping her palms didn't feel as sweaty as they probably were.

"Chelsea, glad you could make it. We need to chat."


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm gonna keep going. :)  
**

* * *

"I'm telling you, Roman. You need to take a chance," Dean Ambrose was alongside his friend and ring partner, Roman Reigns. He was trying to talk his friend into going out on a date with the beautiful Summer Rae, who had made it quite clear that her eyes were stuck on the dark, brooding Samoan.

Roman coughed, trying to ignore his troublemaking friend. Who, by the way, should never be allowed to play matchmaker. While Summer Rae was tall, blonde, thin, and gorgeous, Roman Reigns just simply had no interest in her that way. When it came down to it, they didn't have much in common. Besides for that, his focus was straight on eventually winning the WWE championship belt. There was only room for Roman in life right now, and no room for a woman to sidetrack him.

"C'mon, man," Dean still went at it. "Just imagine what those long legs could do? If you were standing in-"

"Really, Dean, cut the shit," he finally snapped, his tone having finality to it. Dean threw his hands up in the air, acting as though that he was confused over Roman's decision.

The two were at the training center, getting ready for the show that night in Tampa Bay. Roman stacked some free weights on his barbell, preparing himself to bench press more than he probably should be. He'd hurt his shoulder just a few weeks ago, but didn't admit that to anyone. He knew what injuries did to people: Destroyed them. The amount of men that he'd seen go down with torn _somethings_ in their arms as of late was concerning; and in fact, John Cena had just gone down with a shoulder injury just a week ago. While he was still uncomfortable with the sharp pain of the pulled muscle, Roman still chose not to say anything to anyone. If he did, it was with certainty that the medical team would take him off the shows until it was fully healed.

And that would mean he'd be missing very meaningful steps to winning that strap. If all went properly, he would win it this summer...

"I'm just saying, Reigns. You're not getting any younger. Where else are you actually going to meet someone? That'd mean you'd have to come out with us after shows," Dean stood over Roman as he began to bench press his weights, being his spotter. He helped place the weights back, Roman taking a short break. The larger man wished that Dean would fuck off for awhile, and wondered what happened to the third Shield member, Seth Rollins. They'd all come down to the weight room of the city center together, but Seth was generally more intrigued by cardio than by building muscle. Most likely, he was on the opposite side of the room, listening to some shitty music on a treadmill.

"Not to mention," Dean spoke again, and Roman grunted, hoping that was enough to get him to quit talking. He didn't catch it and continued anyways:

"The amount of single ladies sure seems to be wavering as of late."

Roman chuckled over that bit. It was true, he supposed. His cousin Jimmy had just married Naomi, Natalya had married TJ Wilson, and AJ Lee had announced her engagement to the former WWE star, CM Punk. Since everyone worked within such close proximity of one another, it wasn't too much a surprise that there were so many relationships forming backstage. Roman, however, had kept very narrow-minded on this subject. Nobody, not even Dean Ambrose, nor a pretty blonde girl named Summer, would be able to change his mind.

"What about you, Ambrose?" he shot back, glaring up at the auburn-haired man from his position. He was ready to continue his reps, but it didn't look like Dean was paying any attention. If his strength wavered, the barbell would come crushing his sternum. Realizing that Dean wasn't interested in the workout, Roman slid from underneath the weights, stretching his arms over his shoulders as he slowly came to a sitting position.

Dean thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "My heart is still in California," he stated confidently. Roman rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand the bitch Dean was infatuated with. Her name was Marissa, and she thought she was an actress. In reality, she was an average-looking girl who spent too much time and money getting her face altered, and had done maybe six commercials in her entire career. She was turned down over and over again for movies, modeling agencies, and reality television shows. When they'd done one of their pay-per-view events in Los Angeles, Roman had finally met Marissa, only confirming his suspicions that she was indeed a gold-digging hoe. She'd whined to get her way through the entire day, begged Dean to stay with her for an extra night, and made a show of carrying around her Coach purse. She was so unlike anyone Dean had ever dated before that this relationship made no sense. Never before had he been involved with someone so full of themselves.

Then again, Roman didn't understand much about relationships. He also really didn't understand how Dean's mind worked or why he did some of the things that he did. Truthfully, he had no idea how Dean managed to meet this girl, but there was no talking him out of her. He _actually believed_ that this woman had potential.

Roman caught a glimpse of Stephanie walking by the pane glass window; following her, a woman with black and teal hair. He wondered who she was, but quickly wrote her off as a nobody. Probably a ring-rat getting escorted out or something. If there was going to be a new superstar or diva joining the roster, there was usually a media release stating so.

But then Stephanie had turned towards the woman, her business-like strut slowing. She was smiling at the shorter woman now, as if they knew each other. This piqued his interest a little bit, and he sat up a little straighter to see where they were heading. Sure as shit, the two women were going to Stephanie McMahon's office. In a quick flash, the black and blue hair now stood immobile in front of the office door talking to Stephanie quite animatedly, not once turning around. Roman couldn't help but to feel like he was being ripped off. There was something about her that was mesmerizing to him, and he hadn't yet seen her face.

Dean must have noticed Roman's initial gaze, and tisk-tisked his friend.

"That's Chelsea, and she's bad news," he told his friend, dragging his voice out as though her name was poison in his mouth. How did Dean even know who she was? Roman had never seen her before; she definitely didn't fit in with the general type of women around here. She was...weird. Different.

If he'd seen her before, he'd surely remember.

When Roman didn't respond, Dean continued. "The one that was too busy shooting up or whatever with Jeff Hardy to care about her job? Vince McMahon asked me this morning to train her. Or let her 'brush up,' as he put it. So I've seen the tapes of her. Not too bad in the ring. And yeah, Roman, she's pretty damn cute, but I don't think she's worth the risk. She would totally ruin your image. "

Now, Dean was starting to get under Roman's skin. Why was he just now mentioning that he'd been asked to train someone? That was kind of a big deal; it meant that the big dogs thought that you were making great strides in the company. It meant Dean was being primed for the very same role that Roman was seeking...

And, if he despised this Chelsea person so very much, why would he even agree to get into the ring with her, unless it was to get a leg up with the management?

"The divas division could use some help right now," Roman spoke up, trying his damnedest to push away all the thoughts of Dean Ambrose stabbing him in the back. "Right now, it's all about that stupid show. Add in a little bit of AJ drama, and you have our entire divas division. You never know, bringing in Kelly Osbourne might be a step in the right direction this company."

This caused the shorter man to laugh loudly and rudely. "No way, Roman. Do some research. This girl was hanging out at a motel down the road from the arena doing lines, almost causing little Hardy to miss his match! Even if she's straight and sober now, how long can that really last, especially around these parts?"

But Roman had tuned his stable mate out, watching the petite woman stand outside the door yet. She had a whole different persona to her. First off, she definitely wasn't the druggie Dean staked her out to be. Roman could see that she was in impeccable physical condition, and she had some strange sort of glowing allure to her. There were tons of blonde chicks that claimed to love wrestling in the WWE, though only a handful who actually could. Then, there were girls like the Bella Twins who were really learning to wrestle, but were gaining popularity almost solely based off from a television show.

And then, she turned towards the glass, which Stephanie was pointing to. Roman cast his eyes away, not wanting to let on that he'd been focused on her. The last thing he wanted was to catch her eye contact. Yet, he found his eyes wandering once more, getting the full glimpse of her.

This woman was a whole new breed of diva. She wore her black and teal hair in a long braid, white sunglasses perched on her head. She was carrying a gray coat, which he wondered what in the hell she'd need that for in sunny Florida. A tight black t-shirt clung to her toned frame, destroyed jeans clinging to her curves. She wore black flip-flops, her toenails painted a dark purple.

Most people wore their Sunday's finest when they met with the McMahon family, but Chelsea…she just wore what she wanted, and Roman admired that. Stephanie, it seemed, didn't even bat an eye at Chelsea's wardrobe. Instead, she still had a firm smile on her face, waving her hands in grand gestures as she spoke.

"Ro, come on. I swear to you, she is not worth your time," Dean continued, averting his friend's attention once again. "Let's blow this lemonade stand. Seth will find us later, and I'm starving."

Roman nodded in response, rolling over the last half an hour in his brain. It had been a strange one, to say the least; between the reveal of Dean being a trainer of a girl he loathed, Roman's sore as fuck shoulder, and actually seeing this girl that Dean loathed...well, it had been quite eventful. He followed Dean out the door, keeping his eyes straight ahead. When he heard the door close down the hall, he knew that the two women were finally behind closed doors, their further conversation private.

Maybe Dean was right. Roman didn't exactly pick his women wisely; his last girlfriend lasted a few short months. She turned out to be insane, trying to plan their kids' names and bullshit.

Not that any of that mattered anymore. He wanted to keep working hard to improve, and that meant spending more time training and less time trying to find the love of his life. He'd written off that possibility a long time ago, anyways. He'd learned early on that life on the road wasn't going to do him any favors in the relationship department. While some of his colleagues were here to hook up and do whatever they did, his goal never changed. And, as proven by many of the men that he'd respected marrying and divorcing faster than he could lace up his boots, a wrestler couldn't have a great relationship and be the number one in the company at the same time. It just wasn't possible.

* * *

After what felt like a million years of Stephanie's storytelling, she had finally led Chelsea into the makeshift office. Stephanie had been largely ignoring the smaller woman for the last five minutes or so as she responded to a few e-mails and emergency phone calls from the lighting team who apparently had shattered one of the spotlight's bulbs.

The waiting game wasn't fun, and all it did was make Chelsea more and more nervous of what this meeting would foretell of her future.

"Chelsea, since we last spoke on the phone, I've gone through a lot of your paperwork," Stephanie was now digging through a file folder, pulling out random papers here and there.

Chelsea watched her boss, nervously inadvertently snapping her flip flop against the heel of her foot. Once she realized that she was probably being obnoxious, she stopped; hoping that Stephanie hadn't noticed. Stephanie had been holding on to all the power, and could determine whether or not she even had a job anymore.

"Ah, there it is," Stephanie proclaimed, holding a document. "This is your contract. I've had our lawyers look it over once again. We revised it a little bit. You are on a probationary period right now, subject to random drug tests. If you do not pass, we have the right to terminate you completely, without any pay. However, if you make it through this trial period, we would like to extend your contract for three years."

Chelsea could've jumped from her seat. "Where's the pen? I'll sign that right away!" she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

Stephanie held up a finger. "You should be aware, though, that during this six month trial, you are not eligible to challenge for the Divas championship belt. I trust you could use some brushing up in the ring, which is why I've paired you with an excellent technical wrestler. You will train with him until your heels crack and bleed, your hands blister, and your knees give out. Our divas division could use a little help right now. We want you to join an alliance against the Total Divas—that'll make sure that those ladies get the coverage they're looking for, too. I doubt that would be hard for you to do."

Chelsea considered that. No, it wouldn't be hard to be pissed at the Total Divas. She didn't know all the women who were involved, but she did know three of them. At least, she thought she knew three of them. Natalie and the Bellas had been rising from the ground around the same time as she had, and she couldn't believe that the three of them had thrown themselves wholeheartedly into something that was so unbelievably against what they'd originally stood for.

Chelsea respected AJ greatly for sticking to her guns. Yeah, she probably would've been a huge asset to the show. But who could blame the champion for wanting AJ Lee to be separate from April? Chelsea knew she would probably have done the same if she'd been given the opportunity; she didn't want her fans, if she had any, to see the fucked up, broken side of her.

"So, what exactly am I supposed to do?" Chelsea asked her boss, half-ass reading her contract.

"Well, what creative and myself believes is that you are going to play some heavy mind games with the women of Total Divas. We've been writing up ideas all week long. We think we're going to play some cruel, mean jokes on them… Just get inside their heads. It will be a whole shock to the world when you admit to have done these things. Eventually, we'd like it to be Total Divas versus Anti-Divas. For today, though, I am going to put you on the commentating team. Only reason is to promote your return. You weren't around enough for a lot of people to remember you, so we are going to make sure to have you hype yourself a little bit. And, when you finally are ready to get back in the ring, we want the wow factor. In the meantime, we'll pull together a short video package of some of your finest moments during your run in NXT."

"And who exactly is going to be my instructor?" Chelsea asked, looking up from the typed document. She didn't know a whole lot of people anymore, so she was certain it'd be someone she didn't know well. Or at all.

"Well, you probably haven't met him yet. I believe he's the best fit for you right now. Dean Ambrose of the Shield is going to be your mentor, Chelsea. I expect you to be ready to go for a quick lesson at four o'clock sharp. At five, you have a meeting with Michael Cole. Once he is finished getting your mic skills in check, report right back to me immediately." Stephanie handed Chelsea an immaculate black ballpoint pen, nonchalantly pointing to the line that she would be signing.

Quickly scribbling her name, the new diva looked up again at Stephanie McMahon. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," she admitted, handing the pen back. "I can never fully repay you, but I want you to know, I'm going to work hard to prove how much I appreciate a second chance."

Clapping the young woman on her shoulder, Stephanie beamed. "I know you won't disappoint me. Sometimes, we need someone to believe in us a little bit before we can fully believe in ourselves. Now, go on and get yourself dressed in something more appropriate for in the ring. As for tonight, you'll find an outfit that I've personally picked for you in the ladies locker room."

Chelsea thanked the billionaire once again, anxiously heading to see her assigned outfit. She had never done commentary before, so she knew she'd probably dress like a stiff in a suit. Even still, any good impression was still better than the one she'd left the company with. She hoped and prayed that the fans didn't really remember her. There was general disappointment amongst them after her departure; a lot of talk, and a lot of people who knew what the conditions of her leave of absence was really about. Now was the time to change that. Now was the time to—

"Whoa, hey there!" a muscled man nearly collided with her, and she mentally scolded herself for being too deep into her own thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I have a lot to get done in a short period of time," she told the guy. He had half black and half blonde hair, and was fairly good looking. She didn't recognize him, but he had a very laid back vibe to him.

"We all do. My name is Seth. You must be Chelsea."

Damn it, she was so far from anonymity around here! How did this guy know who she was?

"Yeah, that's me. Well, I need to get dressed and meet my trainer…" she started off on her way when he halted her.

"Your trainer is my good friend, Dean. Let me introduce you guys."

Go figure, this guy was best buds with the man that would be re-teaching her to do Natalie's sharpshooter. Fuck that.

"Nah, really. It's no big deal. Boss lady doesn't want me wearing this to the ring," she pointed to her drab outfit, now silently wishing she had worn something a little bit better.

"You have half an hour before you guys have to get to training. That's plenty of time to put on some boots and a t-shirt."

With that, the man yanked Chelsea's elbow, urging her to follow him.

As they entered the catering room, her heavily made up eyes landed on who she presumed to be Dean. And by the way Seth was bounding towards him and another dude, her suspicions were confirmed.

"You," he said, his voice dripping with venom.

"And you," she responded coldly. _Go fucking figure!_ "How's Marissa?"

Dean stood up, inches from the girl's face.

"Marissa is not your concern. Your concern is keeping your job here. So I suggest you shut up, find your ring gear, and meet me back here in no more than twenty minutes." Dean's voice had almost become a whisper now, and his eyes were flashing angrily. He meant business.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading, or re-reading, this story. I so appreciate the new follows and favorites, it's a good feeling knowing that I'm writing for a reason. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do.**

 **For those who are new to Chelsea's story, keep in mind that this is pre-women's wrestling. This is very much the Total Divas era, so therefore it is quite unlikely to see Sasha Banks, Bayley, or Charlotte. I wrote it in 2014-ish and I plan on keeping it that way. Also, shout-outs to:**

 **SuperHero Heartbeat for the review. It made me SMILE when I saw that you knew where the title originated from-easily one of my top favorite five songs of all-time.**

 **Emmettluver2010 for your review...I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

 **espeon44: We'll see what happens... :)**

* * *

 _ **Flashback:**_

The woman untangled herself from the man's body, trying to catch her breath. She didn't really remember much of what happened last night, but they were both naked. The man groaned as she moved, so she did so as gently as possible so as not to wake him. She carefully swung her feet over the bed, quickly tossing back the sludge of a drink that was left in the glass from last night. The familiar, bitter taste of rum greeted her lips.

Gagging on the warm liquor, as she expected it to be soda, she did her best not to wretch.

Stumbling towards the bathroom door, she caught a glimpse of his phone, plugged in next to the bathroom sink. It kept flashing, and she peeked back at the bed to make sure her lover was still sleeping. Verifying that he was still passed out from their drunken endeavors, she curiously swiped his screen to unlock the phone, clicking on the text message icon. Her heart pounding, anger boiled as she read the text that Jeff's girlfriend had sent to him just about an hour ago:

 _"I love and miss you, Jeffy! Happy anniversary, call me soon. XOXO"_

She allowed the familiar feeling of hurt and jealousy sear through her, and even in her partially drunken state, fury began to rise straight from her toes. It's not like she didn't know he had someone. Of course she did. But the fact that Jeff would continue to use her for a bedmate, even on the apparent anniversary between himself and his girlfriend...that just made her sick.

Actually, she could feel herself getting sick now...

Preparing to delete the text messages away into cyberspace forever, she hoped that it would also aid in Jeff forgetting about his girlfriend at all. She knew it was unlikely, but maybe if he believed she didn't care to text him, he would eventually leave her.

"Fuck you think you're doing?" The man was standing behind her now, startling her. She'd never heard him get out of bed. His hair was a sweaty mess, he needed to shower and shave, and his skin was bruised from all the bumps and falls he'd taken in the ring this week. Jeff claimed that doing drugs helped alleviate some of the pain he'd endured during some of his matches sometimes.

Then again, Jeff was a great liar.

"It was going off—I didn't know—" but he was in her face now, and his breath hot on her lips. He smelled like an odd mixture of stale cigarettes, coffee, and cheap dark rum. She knew she was caught and that there was nothing she could say to him. She prepared for consequences. She looked down, trying not to catch his flashing eyes. If she did, it would be a hell of a lot worse for her in the long run.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are. But you're not her. You are nothing. A fucking nobody. I don't love you, and I never will. Don't you get that?"

Forcing her tears to stay put, she nodded as she muttered a wimpy apology. As often as he'd said those words to her, it still stung to hear them.

He rounded around her, cornering her further and further into the sleazy motel bathroom. Eyeing her up as though he was preying on her. She watched him as he picked up the nearly empty bottle of rum from the floor, walking closer and closer towards her face. Still not looking his way, he took a great swig from the bottle, making a face as the liquor touched his tongue. How he was able to drink that shit straight, she'd never know.

Once again, they'd snuck away from their colleagues and friends the night before. If anyone noticed, nobody had said so. It was becoming their own tradition of sorts. It was risky, getting their own place while they were supposed to be with the rest of the roster. But how were they supposed to go about their business undetected? It was safer this way. Nobody could narc on them if they were staying in a whole different hotel. Nobody had proof that they'd done anything wrong.

Still, Jeff's older brother and sometimes partner suspected that there was something serious going on. Jeff, however, had told him to fuck off and mind his own business.

"You got it? You are not her. You're pretty, and you've got a sweet pussy. But that's all you are to me. All you are is a fucking slut." The man was tripping over his own words, talking in drunken circles. His breath was hot on her collarbone, and she closed her eyes as she prepared for him to bite her, which sometimes he would do. Instead, he tripped into her, his head colliding with her her own. She could feel the stinging pain of their collision, but when he looked up at her with sleepy eyes, her heart skipped a beat.

"A dirty, pretty little fuck," he mumbled, a hand yanking her dark hair so they were even closer. He smiled as he began to stroke her cheek, sending her mixed signals like crazy.

Their lips finally met, and the next thing she knew, the purple-haired man pushed her away, grabbing her shoulder to turn her around. When her back now faced him, Jeff bent her over the stained, porcelain sink. Her body felt an instant shock as he began driving his full length into her already sore, unprepared folds. She screamed in agony as he pounded against her flesh, digging his nails into her bare bottom. She absentmindedly worried that he'd drawn blood, not able to enjoy herself in any way. Sex with Jeff wasn't always this way, but when he was mad, he was an entirely different person.

He made an incoherent noise as he came into her, filling her as his body shook. She enjoyed that part, at least, as he loosened his grip on her. In an instant, he whipped her around just as fast as he had the first time. He looked at her with complete disgust before rearing back and punching her straight into the jaw.

Chelsea never saw it coming. She fell backward from the impact, her head hitting the edge of the sink.

She began fading out, wondering how, despite some of the shit he did to her, she could still love the man that was towering over her naked body.

But the sad truth was, she did.

* * *

 _ **Present day:**_

"Chelsea, you can't be afraid of getting hit," Dean was working with her in the ring now, the arena just as empty as it had been when she'd arrived. While most everyone else was in the back preparing for the evening, Chelsea got the enjoyment of a quick learning session with someone she really didn't like. Dean, on the other hand, got to give her a scare every time he'd go to give her a right arm. Her instinct would kick in whenever he got near her face, and she'd freeze.

Chelsea stepped back as he tried to lock up with her, trying to avoid his grasp.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Chelsea," he murmured, his own frustration building.

"Why not? I'm sure you'd love to," she countered, a little bit of sass back to her trainer. In response, he pushed her backwards, and the small of her back hit the ringpost awkwardly. The sharp, shooting pain flooded through her body.

She quickly jolted back up from the ring post, her hands clenched into fists. She knew that Dean was being hard on her. After all, it had been awhile since she'd been in the ring with someone. Not wanting him to make her look bad anymore, she now stood toe to toe with him. He still loomed over her short frame, so she probably was as intimidating as a poodle.

"Focus this time," he yelled to her through gritted teeth. "Now, when I take a swing, you need to avert, go under, and reverse grapple."

Chelsea wasn't sure why she was doing so poorly tonight. She'd watched hundreds of videos on YouTube to keep her agility and move set fresh during her stay at the rehabilitation center. In fact, she would spend plenty of days facing a punching bag during exercise and activity hours, practicing different techniques. The only problem being that punching bags couldn't fight back, so she had really only studied being on offense.

It was going to take a little getting used to. She didn't have full control anymore, and would have to adapt to fighting an actual person. Not wanting to look like a rookie all over again, she took a deep breath, watching Dean carefully so she was ready to reverse his right hook.

She reacted quickly when he drew back, reminding herself not to be afraid of him. This time, she landed the counter that he'd instructed her. She added her own twist to it, a sudden burst of energy coursing through her body. After she ducked under his attempt, she held on to his hand, holding him into a reverse chicken wing submission. Then, she took the sole of her plain white wrestling boot, pushing it against Dean's rear before releasing him. He stumbled forward, and she was sure he was going to eat the mat.

Instead, Dean caught himself and turned to give the woman another angry glare. She winked at him, hoping he would stop being such a douche to her.

Seth, who was at ringside, clapped at her performance. "Finally! Someone putting Ambrose in his place!"

Dean muttered that the session would be over for the evening, and Chelsea thanked him for his expertise. She enveloped him in a hug, and he clearly looked uncomfortable to be pressed against her.

"You're on a tight schedule, Chelsea Sweetly," he spat to her, using her full ring name with disdain. "Get a move on."

As much as she wanted to argue, she knew she couldn't. She had to get ready to be commentating tonight, and she couldn't exactly do that drenched in sweat and in very basic, boring ring gear that Stephanie McMahon had given her to wear that evening.

Hoping that Stephanie's plain-jane style hadn't leaked into the rest of her wardrobe for the rest of the evening, Chelsea gave Dean a curt, agreeing nod. She pulled off her wrist tape, sliding out of the ring and leaving him in the center of it. He watched her carefully, his mouth twitching as though he had something more to say.

He never said anything, and she walked up the ramp, looking forward to a quick shower.

* * *

Roman Reigns just couldn't get this strange girl off from his mind. She hadn't even noticed his existence upon meeting Dean, which was strange in itself. He towered over most; a serious, dark look always taking over his features. But she either didn't acknowledge that he was there, didn't really care, or pretended not to.

Most women fawned over him, admiring how handsome he was. Not Chelsea, though. Not only was she not like other women, she was far from any of the other women on the roster. Chelsea marched to the beat of her own drum, and didn't seem to care that she was the only person marching. Shit, anyone who met with Stephanie McMahon wearing torn jeans and lived through it was cool in his book. Not to mention, Seth had told him all about her maneuver in-ring after Dean had called her out on being a wuss, and Roman wished he'd tagged along to see.

Pulling on the vest that matched his black ring attire, he awaited the arrival of the other two stooges. Or maybe catch another glimpse of Chelsea.

And, just as he though she'd read his mind, the woman that had captured his attention was heading right towards him. She now wore crisp, dark washed jeans, bright pink stilettos, a leopard print shirt, and a nicely fitted black jacket. Her hair was down, now in springy curls, but a pink bow was secured on the side. She was even prettier than he remembered, his breath catching for a second.

"Hey!" she said to him, recognizing him from earlier. He looked around for a second, to make certain that she was actually talking to him. He looked down at her, wordlessly.

"Have you seen Michael Cole around?" she asked, her smile weak. She rocked back on the balls of her feet, the heels clicking against the floor as she did. She was nervous, and it was obvious.

Unfortunately, Roman realized that she wasn't nervous because of him. In fact, she hadn't recognized him at all, and had no idea who he was. He was just a friendly face that could direct her around backstage. That realization was bittersweet, knowing he hadn't made much an impact on her memory at all. Yet, his own curiosity about _her_ had been eating at him all evening.

"Should be in the production room," he replied, coming off as more of a dick than he'd wanted to.

Chelsea pursed her lips, furrowing her brow. Roman took note of the extensive amount of black crap she used on her eyes. She could pull it off, no doubt. The heavy black liner and shadow was a sharp contrast to her bright blue eyes, making them shine brightly. She also had ridiculously long lashes, and while most women wore those fake ones on TV, hers seemed to be natural.

" _Great_. And where exactly is that?" she mimicked his tone, sounding just as dickish as he had. Roman laughed once, allowing himself to relax. He jerked his shoulder in a come-hither motion, smiling largely.

"Come on, I'll show you."

* * *

"Here on commentary tonight, we have WWE diva Chelsea Sweetly, coming back from the abyss," JBL said to the WWE Universe, the cameramen panning the announce team. "Chelsea, it's been what, a year now? What brings you here tonight?"

"What a stupid question, JBL. I imagine she was brought here by an airplane," Michael Cole jeered.

Chelsea cast her eyes quickly down at her script, knowing that she had a second to glance it over again before the camera closed in on her face. "Well, Bradshaw, as you know, our divas division has been taken over by a reality TV show. I didn't believe it myself at first, so I dropped by to see it…and it's sadly true. When did the divas division become about petty drama? What about the wrestling aspect? Hopefully, I can help change that perception."

"Fair enough, Chelsea. We definitely are glad to have you back. You look great, and we hope to see you in the ring again soon."

"I hope to be in the ring, too. I'd like everyone to remember what the ladies of the WWE could do back in the day."

Michael Cole broke in once more talking about the next match a singles match involving the woman Chelsea had met earlier, AJ Lee.

Her upbeat music filled the arena as she skipped down the ring, butterfly belt around her tiny waist. The crowd roared for her, and Chelsea found herself clapping, too. A bigger, meaner looking woman, who was announced to be Tamina Snuka, trailed AJ.

"You're an AJ fan, Chelsea?" Michael Cole was ad-libbing now, and she responded with ease.

"She's one of the few who actually seem to have her head on straight. And actually used her talent to gain that belt, not television ratings."

AJ's opponent was Naomi, who Chelsea learned was on Total Divas, too. She was very impressive in the ring, but the audience was simply not interested or invested in the match. She wondered why Naomi wasn't well-received by the WWE Universe despite her talent. The match was quick, with AJ pulling off a win in less than five minutes.

The entire night, Chelsea honestly enjoyed herself between the two regular commentators. She'd learned a lot about her peers, which now made clear sense as to why Stephanie had her team up with these guys. So much had changed, and so many people she hadn't known or met yet were headlining now. It was the perfect way to get her to understand the direction of the company and learn who she would be dealing with.

The final match of the evening included The Shield, which was a faction seemingly led by Dean. God, he made her skin crawl; his moppy hair slicked back and his steps down the middle staircase precise. Behind him was Seth, who looked much more fierce in his SWAT-team ring gear than he had in his street clothes.

The last man to come out through the crowd also happened to be the biggest one, Roman. In just a few moments, the match was underway.

Watching the titantron, Chelsea could see that this Roman Reigns guy was ridiculously breathtaking. He was undoubtedly handsome, but not only was he far superior to anyone else he was fighting; he about outshone his own team members with his strength. Much to her embarrassment, Chelsea hadn't realized that he was the third member of the stable since he hadn't been along during her training earlier.

Then again, when he'd walked her to the production room, they'd only talked about her. She'd told him where she was from, where she'd trained, and how she was looking forward to actually wrestling again. Roman was a good listener and hadn't offered any information about himself, allowing her to mindlessly chatter away her nerves.

The Shield were the victors, and after being declared so, the trio left the ring to stand right on top of the announce table. Dean held an ugly championship belt over his head as he yelled to the crowd about being the best, and the crowd's reactions to the team were mixed. When they were done horsing around, each man jumped down from the black table, turning to head back up the ramp. As soon as his heavy combat boots hit the ground, Chelsea caught Roman's eye. His dark eyes pierced her blues, an icy stare between the two. Though it was only a second's worth, Chelsea could almost hear her own heart thumping in her chest.

 _Knock it off, stupid. You're here for one thing...Your job!_

After the show had formally ended, Chelsea breathed a sigh of relief. She'd nailed it; even JBL had told her so. And heaven knew he didn't normally compliment anyone. The audience began to clear out, and she stood up, following JBL and Michael Cole towards the ramp. A few people in the audience stuck their hands out, and she walked by, high-fiving a couple kids.

Making her way backstage, she was looking forward to finally relaxing. She'd picked up a new book late last week, but hadn't had the time to get into it. Nerd for sure, but she really wanted to be by herself to unwind in a decent hotel bed.

"So, why Chelsea Sweetly?" AJ Lee appeared suddenly alongside her, still in her jean shorts, Love Bites t-shirt, and lace-up Chuck Taylor Converse.

Chelsea smirked, turning towards the woman who was the closest thing she had right now to a friend.

"It's not what I would've picked for myself, to be honest. Actually, I didn't pick it...Nattie did. She thought it was funny because it was such a sharp contrast to my appearance. Not so sweet."

AJ looked her over thoughtfully. "I have to admit, I like it. Although, you _did_ look a lot more bad-ass when you started. With the eyebrow piercing and all."

Actually, the rehabilitation center had asked her to take out all seven of her piercings. She'd ended up letting most of them close up, and secretly enjoyed how different and softer she'd looked without them. Much more approachable.

"If you need a ride to the hotel, I can hurry it on up. Tamina and I are going to be driving together, but you're more than welcome to come along," AJ changed the subject quickly, and Chelsea hastily agreed. She kind of expected she'd end up walking, or if it was too far, calling for a cab. The fatigue from today's events had been weighing on her, though, so the faster she could snuggle in bed with her book, the better.

For the most part, Chelsea was glad for how smoothly most the day had gone. Some nicks and shoves along the way, including having fuckin' Dean as her trainer. Another serious downer was the way Natalie had put her in her place, solidifying that once again, the Hart Foundation heiress was no longer an ally to Chelsea.

Regardless, she'd met AJ, so at least she wasn't completely alone.

Even if she probably deserved to be.


	5. Chapter 5

_"You really are pretty," Jeff said to her as he trailed the curve of her hips with his hands. The lingering scent of alcohol was still on his breath, but when it came to the younger brother, it was nothing new. He teased her with a kiss to the temple before stepping back, making a grab for the cheap bottle of shampoo the motel provided. Chelsea tried to avert her eyes as he leaned forward, but the way his muscles glistened under the stream of the hot water made her jaw drop..._

 _"But you're not mine," he stated, once again stepping towards her, closing the gap between them._

 _The two were in the shower, their naked bodies now intertwined while the water sprayed down on them. Just a half hour ago, he'd told her that they could no longer sleep together. He was feeling badly about cheating on his girlfriend again; always battling with himself over what he should be doing versus what he was actually doing. Normally, it would cause an argument between the two of them, and she'd wind up crying her eyes out._

 _This time, at least, he'd told her his decision nicely, but promised her one more night. Unfortunately, when he got as sweet and sappy like he was now, Chelsea would hold on to hope. He could be the nicest, caring person she'd ever met. Then again, the addict side of him proved that he was also a monster, lyingto the medical trainer about why she needed stitches in the back of her head after smashing it on the sink a couple weeks back.  
_

 _He always told her they "couldn't do this anymore," yet they always ended up in this same predicament, and she felt like he was just trying to let her go for the sake of his guilty conscience.  
_

" _But I can be," she responded, tears beginning to brim her eyes. "I can be yours if you'd just let me."  
_

 _Jeff shook his head, his purple hair swinging water. "You deserve someone better," he responded._

 _Chelsea went to wipe the tears from her eyes, her hands stained with her black eye makeup. She probably looked like a drowned raccoon by now, what with the amount of mascara and eyeliner she used on a daily basis.  
_

" _But I want you, Jeff," she muttered, staring at the drain, watching the blackened water swirl. There was a long, drawn silence between them. Finally, she looked up at him, but it wasn't Jeff who was standing before her anymore._

" _You deserve someone like me," Roman Reigns said, his skin glistening with droplets. He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear, than bent down to her height to kiss her._

* * *

Chelsea woke up right before her lips had met Roman's, her sweaty, matted hair sticking to her pillow. She was confused, searching the room before realizing that she had been dreaming...kind of. She would have nightmares involving Jeff often, but this was something that she hadn't been prepared for.

Staring at the ceiling, she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Had she _really_ just almost had a sex dream about one of the guys she'd just met? That was seriously fucked up.

She couldn't ignore that he was both gorgeous and kind to her, but she also knew that someone like Roman was way out of her league. These goofy, lovestruck teenager feelings would have to wait. After all, she had an awful lot to prove as far as wrestling went. She hadn't ever held the gold; she barely got her foot in the door with the company. And now, she had to make up for all of her past bullshit. So, her love life? That'd be put on the backburner for awhile.

There was a cough, and she turned to the other twin bed. AJ was stirring, a comic book still open and draped next to her in the bed. The champion had both invited and nearly begged her to stay with her in the hotel. It was alright, though, because even though Chelsea planned on gunning it alone, having someone as chill as AJ around actually helped. Neither of them were the gossipy types, and they certainly didn't sit in the room together brushing each other's hair.

They had chatted, though. AJ seemed to remember Chelsea pretty well in the ring, and knew that her finishing move was a bulldog off from the ropes, which was called Sweet Face.

Chelsea was embarrassed to admit she didn't know much about the smaller woman, but AJ had no problem talking about herself. They'd talked about Total Divas, and how it was ruining women's wrestling. They talked about Natalie, and while AJ said that she respected the woman, she felt that she became a whiney, snotty witch once the show's success became apparent. Their conversation ended when AJ left the room to take a call from her fiancé, and Chelsea had fallen asleep reading _Divergent._

"Good morning, Chelsea Sweetly," AJ teased, stretching her arms over her head. "Sweet dreams?"

"Weird ones," she responded, still puzzled about what was going on in her head.

"Anything interesting?"

Chelsea thought for a moment, but wasn't ready to admit she'd dreamed about the Shield's powerhouse star.

"I dream about Jeff Hardy all the time still," she told her instead, sitting up in bed and putting on her nerdy glasses. "I tell myself that I'm over his bullshit, and over him. Because I have to be. But then, when I go to bed, he still haunts me. I just want him to go away forever."

AJ looked thoughtful. It was common knowledge by now that Chelsea and Jeff Hardy were drug buddies, and that in a sense, he'd taken a huge toll on her career.

"I didn't know you dated Jeff," she said. Chelsea's jaw almost dropped, taken aback by her admission. Was AJ in the dark about her past?

"I mean, I knew you were released for drug use. I know you were given another chance because you've stayed sober and out of trouble. But it didn't make any sense until you brought up Jeff."

So she _did_ know, but not the whole story.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a quizzical expression crossing her features as she knitted her eyebrows.

"I mean, he was a well-known habitual drug user before you came around," she pointed out. "In fact, my fiance had an entire feud with him because of this, and the feud wasn't exactly kayfabe.

"Anyways, Chelsea, you don't strike me as a drug addict at all. But if you're linked up with someone like Jeff, it's no surprise he'd drag you down with him. He kept you around for a reason...he liked you, and he could manipulate you because of the way you looked at him. So he used that to his advantage, but the only way he could keep you around and not feel guilty about his dirty little habit? Turn you towards the same habit," AJ finished, her look both serious and stern. "I come from a long line of drug users," she shrugged as Chelsea struggled to find words. "So, I've seen a few things."

"Jeff and I…our relationship was confusing," Chelsea said after a long silence. "But unfortunately, we definitely weren't dating. Sometimes I wished we would have. Actually, I _wish_ we had. Because the way he used me really fucked up and skewed my perception on dating in general. To be honest, 'cause of him, I don't know if I'll ever be able to have a healthy relationship at all," she admitted finally.

It kind of felt good to talk about this to a fresh face who didn't wield any opinions. She'd talked to her old roommate in rehab, Lennon, about all of this for months. She'd told the therapist she'd been seeing about each and every shitty thing that Jeff had put her through. But Lennon never had much to offer as far as Jeff went, and therapists always wanted their patient to figure their own shit out.

But AJ did have a point. Jeff had obviously liked something about her. He wouldn't have kept her around for as long as he had if he didn't; it would've been a one and done deal. But it dragged on for months. Who would've thought that the other diva knew what she was talking about?

Chelsea finally got up from the bed, her black-and-red checkered sleep shorts riding a little high. She stretched her hands high over her head, the long-sleeved black t-shirt she wore revealing her stomach. Not wanting AJ to see her the large white scar on her abdomen, she pulled her shirt back down quickly, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

 _Fuck, my hair is a mess!_

But, she had to meet Dean again for training, so she figured she'd wait for a shower until afterwards. She threw her rat's nest into a messy top-bun and figured it'd be good enough for her jedi master. She didn't exactly need to impress the guy, although this stupid morning session was a drag compared to the exciting events coming up. In fact, her whole entire week was scheduled with new promos, a couple interviews, and a shooting for her own entrance.

She was thrilled that Stephanie had given her the power to choose her own music—with her final approval, of course. Chelsea had also been told via e-mail late last night she'd likely be commentating again for Smackdown's show.

Last night, when AJ, Tamina, and Chelsea had gotten to the hotel lobby to check in, Stephanie had met them each with a print-out of their itineraries for the rest of the week. The billionaire princess had handed Chelsea hers last, giving her the tiniest of all winks as she turned to go about her business. Though Stephanie McMahon hadn't actually _said_ anything, Chelsea knew she had the boss's gratitude for working as hard as she had that day.

Regardless, as busy as it looked, it still wasn't nearly as crazy as AJ's schedule. She had no time to herself, it seemed; but that was what holding the stupid butterfly belt meant. AJ had huffed a bit about it when Stephanie had been out of earshot, wondering if she'd ever be able to spend time with her soon-to-be husband.

"Sometimes, I wonder how much of this is going to be worth it," she muttered, looking at her own itinerary for the week before getting out of bed, too. "What's a girl gotta do to get to Chicago for a few days?"

Chelsea pretended not to hear her as she brushed her teeth, not wanting to say too much. Chelsea wanted to tell AJ to knock it off; that she was lucky to have the title. Lucky to have met the love of her life. Just lucky.

But she also knew that she couldn't jeopardize a friendship with her self-pity. Right now, it was all she had.

"Getting ready for the day?" AJ asked, this time, directing her voice towards Chelsea. She was looking at her phone, though. Again.

Chelsea muttered a response, trying to pull something out of her duffel that might actually resemble work-out clothes. A few black sweaters, a couple hoodies, and a pair of ripped jeans later, and she brought up a pair of yoga leggings and a lime green FILA tank top. Good enough.

Of course, she was not about to let the world see her without makeup, even if it melted off during training. She didn't overdo it, but made sure to blacken her eyes like she always did.

"What's with the black?" AJ asked, going through one of her own bags. She was pulling every color Converse from it imaginable, finally settling for a pair of orange low-tops.

"I like black," Chelsea answered. "Just as dark as my soul," she whispered demonically, causing both women to giggle.

"Good luck today," AJ told her, "And since you're not, I'm gonna jump in the shower. I'll see ya tonight, Chels. And since we've got a little traveling to do super early tomorrow, don't stay out too late!"

"Yes, mother," Chelsea shook her head, but didn't hide the small smile on her face. Though AJ Lee could be overbearing, Chelsea was still happy that they got along as well as they did. It almost made the fact that she'd lost Natalie's friendship for good feel like a minor setback.

Almost.

* * *

"I want to teach you a new finisher," Dean was saying. Since their training yesterday, he was slightly less douchey towards her, but still very short with her when he gave her directions. Every time she tried to lighten the mood, Dean went right back to the rigid, uptight schmuck facade he was putting on. She knew him well enough to know he could be silly, but for whatever reason, he wasn't having it.

"What's wrong with Sweet Face?" Chelsea asked. That finisher was her baby, one-hundred percent perfected.

"Nothing, but why not have a submission move, too?"

"I'm not a submissive person," she quirked an eyebrow, hoping the sexual innuendo would make Dean uncomfortable. It worked, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. She laughed loudly as his face turned a lovely shade of red.

"I think it'd be beneficial to learn and use more of them. Since you aren't a high-flyer nor a technical wrestler, you need to have another go-to move. You're lacking on transition. This will help, I can guarantee it."

Chelsea quickly became frustrated, hearing Dean list some of her faults. Yeah, she was rusty. But she wasn't straight-out BAD in the ring, like he was making it seem.

Regardless, he taught her an interesting modified sleeper hold, which he'd claimed to have designed specifically for her and her strengths. ("Your reversal yesterday made me think that you could pull something like this off," he'd said, still clearly butthurt over the foot-in-mouth moment she'd provided him). They'd decided on calling it Sweet Dreams, which Chelsea immediately thought of her almost-dirty dream with his ring partner.

They'd also worked on speed training—she was instructed to dodge every punch Dean threw at her. Unfortunately, once again, she was flinching. As much as she wanted to trust that he wouldn't hurt her, she couldn't help it. She'd been hit on purpose a few too many times.

"Don't be afraid of me, Chelsea. You need to learn to trust the person you're in the ring with," Dean said, throwing a fist that whizzed past her left ear, Chelsea just barely dodging his strike.

"I, for one, wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him," a nasally voice spoke, and Chelsea and Dean halted, turning their attention to the men that had just entered the hotel's large fitness room.

Roman and Seth were making their way to the mats in the center of the floor, both clad in sweatpants and t-shirts. Seth had been the one speaking, a huge grin across his face.

Chelsea smirked as soon as she saw the two. Now she was nervous, as two extra pairs of eyes were watching her.

"Oh, fuck off, Seth," Dean rolled his eyes at his friend. "I don't see you re-training anyone. There must be some level of trust from the management."

"Well shit, then. Let's see something, master Ambrose, " he continued, egging on Dean as he sat cross-legged on the floor, being joined by Roman's figure moments later. "You can re-train us, too, with your... _expertise_ ," he laughed, and Roman joined in, too. Dean didn't say anything, but Chelsea could see that they were mocking him.

 _He probably thinks he's hot shit, being given this opportunity,_ Chelsea realized. _It's really no wonder he took me on, despite hating my living guts..._

They did some more speed training, then continued on, briefly touching on safely falling to the mat. Next, Dean had her repeatedly sell a move until he was happy with the entire motion. Finally, they went through an entire match where he called the shots, using each bit of training during the process. Chelsea had even allowed him perform his own personal finisher, Dirty Deeds, to properly sell and land.

The hard work, she had to say, really felt good. She was slowly starting to feel like her old self again, the one that existed before Jeff had taken away what was left of her. It was time to build herself back up, and this was a great way to start.

* * *

Roman watched Chelsea take all sorts of bumps from Dean. He was amazed that she didn't rattle easily as one of the greatest technical stars of the time tossed her around. She was still flinching at his punches, though he wished she would stop. Dean was super accurate and knew where to throw them, but would never actually land one. Although when Dean had performed his finishing DDT, Roman did notice her wince a little bit. It looked like she'd taken the fall a little hard, but it was a fairly basic move. A move that would be embarrassing to botch in front of an entire live crowd.

He also saw her tank ride up, showing off a really nice, toned stomach. He'd pretended not to care, but she had just the right amount of curve on her. Then, he'd also noticed she'd had a four inch scar running from the bottom of her ribcage towards her bellybutton. She pulled her tank top down immediately, probably self-consciously.

 _It looks like a stab wound_ , Roman thought. Probably some sort of surgery. He found himself wondering, hoping that at some point he'd be able to ask. Even though he wouldn't expect them to ever cross paths either romantically or as good friends, he made a mental note that if they did, he'd ask about it.

That, and she also had a really bad ass tattoo she had spreading across her shoulders and starting down her left arm. It was hard to see the detail, but he found his curiosity piqued once more, hoping for the opportunity to ask her about it one day.

Normally, he wasn't one for such a rough, rugged look on a woman, but good Lord, Chelsea sure had caught his attention.

The two finished up in their makeshift 'ring', both of them covered in sweat. Chelsea took a drink of water and checked the time. Thanking Dean, she said goodbye to the Shield members and practically ran out of the training ring like she had somewhere better to be.

 _She probably did_ , Roman figured. _Anything would be better than locking up with fuckin' Dean._

As he got up to stretch for his own workout, he decided that wherever Chelsea was, he wished he could be, too. Now that she'd left, there was something missing from the room; like someone had blown out the only candle that was lit.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I apologize for the delay in both this story, Yours to Hold, and Guardian. I have been...ugh. So very under the weather. I've been wanting and meaning to write, though unfortunately this past month has been terrible. My grandma, who I love more than any woman in the entire world, was diagnosed with breast cancer late February and I've been having a hard time coping...not only is it tough to see her begin the chemotherapy treatments, it's tough for me to think that now there is a direct bloodline. I've also been stressed at work, as my superior was let go...which means twice the work for me, until they find someone else. Lastly, I have a 6-year-old kiddo that just can't seem to behave at school. Again, I'm sorry for slacking. I'll try to get back into the swing of writing because it's the only thing that keeps me sane. :)**

 **Shout-out to ShieldGirl316 for the review, thank you so much. I have grown so much as a person that I feel that my writing is much better than it was a few years ago. So I'm hoping this rewrite is much, much better.**

* * *

After her rigorous training session, Chelsea was anxious to get back to her hotel room and shower. Her clothes were sweaty and sticky, and she looked forward to changing into something a little nicer for the next bullet of typed activity on the itinerary that Stephanie had given her the night before.

If she could remember correctly, she had a mandatory appointment in about an hour with WWE's computers and technology team, where they'd run through some ideas to shoot her entrance video. Opting to take the stairs over the elevator back to her room, she wondered what they'd come up with for _her_ video. Many divas had super hot modeling scenes play along with their music if they didn't have any action shots. Since she didn't have much of either, she hoped that she would get to film something totally different. Perhaps something that's never been done...

Well, a girl could dream.

Unlocking the door, she almost began to peel off her gym clothes, thinking if she just stripped naked, nobody was around to care.

Until she caught a glimpse of AJ's dark hair, crouched next to her slept-in bed.

"AJ? What are you doing? Don't you have to be at an autograph session or something?" she squinted, very confused over what she was seeing.

But AJ just looked up at her, tears falling plainly down her cheeks. She was fully dressed, with a stack of papers at her feet, which were still clad in her orange Converse from earlier that morning.

"Oh, AJ, what's wrong?" Chelsea sat down next to her friend, giving her a loose hug. She wasn't good at being a comforting person, but AJ reminded her of a little kid that just fell off from her bicycle, the hurt and frustration carried in her dark brown eyes.

"It's stupid," AJ responded lamely, wiping her cheeks. She re-positioned herself as though she was preparing to get back up, but she ended up on her knees, her brow still furrowed as new tears began to form.

"It isn't if you're this upset about it," Chelsea offered, giving her friend a small, comforting pat on the back. She'd received hundreds of those same gestures during her stay in rehab, and it was almost second nature to her to shell out that exact move during this stressful moment. In the past, she thought her counselors and therapists had been only offering her a pat on the back as she cried because they didn't know what else to say. But AJ's shoulders relaxed, her small cries slowly dissipating.

With a huff, AJ looked down, pointing at all the paperwork. "They're taking away my title."

Chelsea didn't say anything, but the shock of the admission from the Black Widow wasn't something she could hide. As AJ gave a sigh, Chelsea knew she'd heard right...AJ Lee was going to drop her title, without much notice at all.

With another short breath, AJ continued:

"All of my friends—Kailtyn, Tamina…my fiance…they all told me this moment would come eventually. I knew I wasn't going to have the title forever, but management has been straight up _punishing_ me. The psychotic character they've made me out to be is limiting and incredibly frustrating. When I opted out of that stupid reality show, they weren't too happy. And now that I'm engaged to Mr. Pipebomb himself, it's a whole new reason for them to humiliate me...'cause they want to prove the point that they have control.

"Phil...well, he left the company without so much as a notice because he didn't like where the direction his story was going. He is burned out, he's sick, and he's still being driven to put his body on the line despite desperately needing a break. Obviously, management expects me to beg him to come back. But I'm not his keeper, and I told them that I supported his decision with all my heart. They didn't like that. Yesterday, when I received by dumb schedule from Stephanie, I asked myself if all of the time consumption is worth it in the end. Want to know what I think? I think that at the end of the day, a filled schedule won't be worth missing out on living and loving my life outside of the ring." AJ explained herself further, her full logic jumpy and interrupted by a lot of sobs. Chelsea brought down the generic box of tissues from the bedside table once the diva stopped talking, and Chelsea figured she had nothing else to say. That was her opening for a question of her own.

"If you don't mind me asking, who are you slated to lose to?" Chelsea asked, hoping to God that it wasn't Natalie. As if Nattie needed another reason to prove that she was still superior.

"An NXT rookie. It's supposed to be a swift kick in my ass, because I lost my own season of NXT. They are doing it to embarrass me. And to be honest, Paige is sweet and extremely talented. I don't have a problem with her whatsoever, and I'm definitely glad it's not anyone that's using their boyfriends to get to the top…but if I'm honest, an early retirement and shacking up in Chicago is looking better and better."

"AJ, come on..." Chelsea tread carefully, seeing how hurt AJ was over the entire scenario. She tried her hardest not to grin at the realization that not even the Hart Foundation's very own princess was going to be at the top of the mountain. Still, the circumstance of the longest reigning diva's champ losing to a rookie from NXT as a McMahon power trip was fucked up. It just fuckin' sucked. Even the Bella twins would've sucked to lose to. As far as Chelsea could tell, there wasn't a lot of real competition in the current women's division, with the exception of Naomi.

For that reason, it seemed, AJ was partially comforted.

AJ started to rise, pulling her bright orange tank top down over her torso, hiding the bit of skin that began to peek out. She took a deep breath, still shaking. She grabbed at the stack of papers she'd had scattered, and Chelsea realized they were her personalized scripts, matches, and outcomes.

"I'm not supposed to be at Smackdown. Well I mean, I am, but I'm not necessary...I'm not scheduled to appear in a match or anything. I think I'm going to go to Chicago for a few days, to remind myself what really matters to me." AJ shook her head, as if she was confirming her own idea. "Yeah, actually, that's what I'm going to do."

"What about all your promos?" Chelsea bit her lip, panic taking over momentarily. "Won't you get into trouble for missing so much?"

AJ looked down at her personalized itinerary, a hint of a smile finally showing as she glanced back up at Chelsea. "Looks like the only thing I'm missing is a promo for _Scooby-Doo Goes to Wrestlemania,_ which is hardly a big deal. But I'm gonna skip out on Smackdown completely. Chels, if you could, let John Laurenitis know I'm down for the count with some stomach bug so he doesn't go looking for me," AJ's mind was made up, and her plan, albeit constructed very last minute, was pretty much an airtight alibi. Chelsea's face fell a little, and she couldn't help wondering if this could be the last time AJ would be standing in front of her.

As if she read her mind, the smaller woman stepped forward, giving Chelsea a knowing glance through her eyelashes.

"Turn that frown upside down, Sweetly. I'll be back...you don't have to worry. I just really need time to sort out what I want to do," AJ spoke, then turned to begin throwing her personal belongings from around their room into her duffel bag. Even though the divas champion had a small smile on her face with each item tossed into her bag, she still looked completely defeated; her ego deflated. Chelsea couldn't blame her for wanting to escape the surely awkward Smackdown taping, though she wondered if AJ was looking too closely at things. Would WWE really scrutinize the soon-to-be wife of a former superstar simply because he exited on bad, but rightful, terms? If so, that was disgusting.

"Oh and hey, here's Tamina's number," AJ started scribbling on a hotel napkin, snapping Chelsea back into reality. "I want to make sure you get to the next city safely, and with someone who's actually sane."

The women hugged, and before the champion could be overwhelmed with sadness once again, AJ composed herself quickly. With a firm nod and a quick goodbye hug, AJ Lee left the room, swinging her bags and her Batman tote bag over her petite frame.

As she stood in the now barren room, Chelsea felt just as alone as she did when she re-entered the professional wrestling world. Hoping that AJ's absence wouldn't be as daunting as it seemed it would be, she began to go through her clothes once again, trying to find something to wear to her next project. Frustrated, she muttered, "Fuck it," and went straight to the shower instead. She was alone now, so she could be walking around the room naked if she damn well pleased.

* * *

"Chelsea Sweetly, looking good," John Laurenitis had met her right outside the conference room, which Chelsea noticed was already full of dorky dudes with their laptops. She had decided to dress down for the occasion, opting to go for something simple, wearing a pair of black denim shorts that had studded grommets around the pockets. Paired with a gray tank top and a dark purple hoodie, she was as casual as ever for another business meeting. But really, for something like this, was it totally necessary to be wearing a suit? No. They were going to go through some tracks and pitch a few ideas back and forth anyways. At least, that's what she understood.

She raised an eyebrow at this guy, having only worked with him a few times. His over-tan, over-Botoxed face was watching her every movement. Was he mocking her? Because she felt he might be. Laurenitis was known to make rude, crude comments behind the women's backs, and she couldn't help but feel like she should've given more thought to her outfit. It was likely he'd turn around and crack a joke about her teenage-like wardrobe choices as soon as she left the room. Since she didn't have the benefit of traveling around with personal stylists like Nikki and Brie, she had spent most of her time straightening her frizzy, post-shower hair. Her wrist was literally numb by the time she was happy with the end result, and she'd gone through half a can of hairspray to keep it the way it was.

And, as usual, she'd opted for her signature blacked-out eyes.

"Ready to find an entrance theme?" he asked her, still smiling stiffly. She wondered if he could show expression at all, or it if was simply because of the injections that made his face stone-like.

"Sure," Chelsea smiled, rocking back on her heels as she prepared to follow him into the warzone. As she turned to follow the talent relations manager, she heard a snicker. She turned to see Nat, looking sweet and innocent, but the blonde woman knew she'd been caught. Chelsea was ready to just ignore whatever bullshit she would spout, but Natalie seemed to see an opportunity to humiliate the dark diva further.

"What are you going to pick, Chelsea? Afroman's _'Because I Got High'_?" Natalie spat her way, the words venom as she said them. She had been at the vending machine, and she now held a water bottle in her hand. Taking a quick swig, she gave a rude, bitchy smile as Chelsea and John Laurenitis stood together in unison, neither speaking.

"I mean, at least it would suit you, Chelsea. Or wait, better yet...I've got it! See if you can use one of Jeff Hardy's songs. What's the name of his band again...? Oh, shit, I can't remember. Probably because they sucked!" Nat let out a huge laugh, as though she'd told the funniest joke in the world.

"Seriously, Nat? Shut the hell up," Chelsea shot a glance nervously at John, who was shifting uncomfortably as he held open the room to the conference room. She knew that Natalie would have preferential treatment in upper management, so as badly as she wanted to slap her pretty, perfectly contoured cheek, she couldn't bear the consequence that would follow.

"Come on, ladies. There's no reason for the arguing," John responded stiffly, and Chelsea chewed her lip to refrain from saying anything more. She'd done literally nothing wrong in this scenario, yet both women were being told to watch their tongues. Just as AJ had muttered about on a few occasions, the backstage politics were unbelievable right now. The whole company was a damned mess.

 _Was it tied to this ridiculous reality show?_ Chelsea couldn't help but think that it was. Without a doubt, regular viewers were tuning in to see what their favorite women did outside of the ring, on their days off, and with their significant others. That was probably a huge profit for the WWE. In fact, it was just a matter of time before one of the ladies regularly displayed on this _Total Divas_ show grasped the belt, because even to Chelsea, it made sense. Especially if this show became an international sensation.

"My apologies, Johnny Ace," Natalie flashed an award-winning smile, knowing fully well she was sucking up to him. "I have to tease my old friend, you know. I haven't seen Chelsea in a long, long time. She was busy, you know, getting her shit together at-"

"I did bring in a few ideas," Chelsea cut off Natalie quickly, hating that she was just about to bring her stay in rehab into the conversation. Not only was it something Chelsea didn't want the world to know about, but it wasn't exactly Nat's story to be blabbing about. John gave Chelsea a quick smile, but the sympathy behind it was clearly there.

"Glad to hear it, Miss Schwedt," he replied, calling her by her actual last name. Chelsea could barely hide the shock in her face when he used her surname; after all, she hardly existed at all in the WWE. She was probably just a spot on the management's radar. "Come along, now, we haven't got all day."

Chelsea gave Nat the dirtiest look she could muster as she followed John Laurenitis into the conference room, allowing her black flip flops to snap against her heels with each step. Natalie just gave her another bitchy smile, laced with straight poison. Giving her former friend the middle finger before closing the door behind her, she was glad to be rid of the wretched woman.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she began walking towards the table set up in the room, getting ready to sit in the last available plastic chair next to John. Unfortunately, the walls were paper-thin, and she could still hear Natalie's voice carry from down the hall as she began an entire re-vamped version to the song she'd suggested, her voice terrible yet unrestrained:

 _"Chels was gonna win the diva's belt, but then she got hiiiiiigh..."_

Chelsea felt like she could punch a wall. Or worse, cry. What had happened to the Natalie that she'd spent years of her life with? What had happened to the goodhearted, friendly woman that she would once trust her life with? Whatever the case, it didn't make any sense. Whatever she'd done to thoroughly piss off the former champion had taken a large toll on their friendship.

Trying to mask her annoyance, she feigned a small smile. She prayed that nobody else had heard Nat's personal rendition of that terrible song, but she knew that was unlikely. No matter; she tried her damnedest to smile brightly and bravely.

"Alright, guys, let's get down to business," she tried, hiding the mist that was dangerously formulating in her tear ducts. "I'm really glad I could be a part of this today," she turned to John, who beamed at her as best he could. (Botox, after all.)

"So, Chelsea, this is the best of our sound and technology team. Mike, Ted, Robert, Arlena, Jackson, and Spurro," Chelsea's eyes darted between each member of the group, taking in the appearance of each of the men who clearly spent their spare time playing computer games. One of them-Ted, perhaps? Actually pulled a pen out of a damn pocket protector.

Robert, on the other hand, kept his focus on her, his eyes watchful in a creepy way rather than an appropriate one.

She cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable in a room full of forty-year-old virgins and computer dweebs, before she saw the pretty, petite woman in the corner. Supposing that must've been Arlena, she watched the blonde begin typing furiously on her laptop as she grinned at the screen, the LCD light's glare shining from her pearly white smile. She was the furthest thing from a computer dork, and she could've easily been in front of the camera herself, being as pretty as she was.

"Hi, everyone. Glad to meet you. As you know, I'm former...er, current WWE diva, Chelsea Sweetly," She took out the crinkled notebook paper that she'd stuck in her back pocket, smoothed it out completely unprofessionally, and gave a big smile.

"Well, Chelsea. We've been throwing ideas around since we've heard of your return," John Laurenitis said slowly. The other members nodded. "I've been in and out of creative meetings for about a month now, and I understand that the current storyline that is proposed by Stephanie McMahon-Levesque has been approved. You, my dear, get to get into the character of an anti-diva, in similar fashion of the NXT rookie, Paige," he continued. That bit perked Chelsea's ears up, knowing what she knew about the woman who would be taking the title from her good friend.

"Paige has been well-received by the NXT fans. We'd like to give you a similar role to test the waters before she begins the journey to come to the main roster. That being said, your main storyline right now is that you are one-hundred percent against the Total Divas show, and your stance is that the women involved in that show are far less superior. Although," John paused here, clicking his teeth as he did so, "I don't think the storylines here should be much of an issue, given the background between you and Natalya."

Chelsea felt her cheeks getting warm as the flush crept up from her neck. "Should be cake," she replied, her voice controlled, as she struggled to hide how furious she was. It was apparent that the team in the room had heard the pretty song that Natalie had been sing-songing through the hallways, and Chelsea was truly humiliated.

On the other hand, it seemed to her that the creative team wanted to rip off this Paige chick's gimmick, see if it could stay afloat on the main roster, and eventually assimilate her into it. Chelsea was just an expendable fuck-up that would be a similar fit, after all...

 _No, quit thinking like that!_ Chelsea scolded herself. As weird as this whole thing was, she was sitting in this room today solely based off from her own merits; she'd put in tons of hard work to get herself back on track. She'd been given another chance, and she deserved that much. If the WWE was going to just release her outright, that probably would've happened already. Now, all she had to do was prove that she could handle whatever shit was handed to her.

 _"_ Very well. Since you and Natalie have such outstanding history together, we believe that you two will be able to put your differences aside for programming purposes and really knock this feud out of the park. I can see this getting huge attention, as a matter of fact," John Laurenitis was going on, and finally, one of the tech geeks cleared his throat to get them back on track. _  
_

"So, while the creative team is working on their end, so are we," the dork with thick, horn-rimmed glasses spoke, his voice nasally. Chelsea watched as his adam's apple bounced with each word, absently wondering how the giant bulge on his neck didn't bother him. Or, perhaps, he didn't notice it at all?

"Indeed," spoke up another, a small, young man peering from behind his own giant laptop screen. "As far as your video package is concerned, we've given plenty of thought about using some of your old stuff, but we want to break away from what you _were_ , for obvious reasons. That's why we'd like to focus on the darkness about you that you naturally have."

 _Uhhh, what? Chelsea Sweetly was going to be re-packaged?  
_

In a sense, that was a dream come true. While she was the angry, brooding vampy chick that had to be the shadow of shiny, glowing, angelic Maryse during her last run with the company, she was willing to bet she could do better this time around. Not to mention, some of the greatest legends of all time benefited greatly from being re-packaged; Stunning Steve became Stone Cold Steve Austin, for example. Which was the more recognizable character? That was obvious.

"As you begin participating in more matches, we will obviously add in some of the highlights from those" another person joined. "But first, we want to focus on your look. We want to stray away from using bits from your time in NXT, as it clashes severely with the modern version of our NXT. Instead, we've given thought to giving you a statement symbol. For example, Lita's original entrance focused on her eyes coming through the storm. The Hardy Boyz had a swinging logo. So, we want to focus on something that gives your character a solid statement. However, that is where we all were stuck," the small guy spoke for a long time, despite his meager appearance. Everyone else gave small murmurs.

"This is where each of us wonder, what is Chelsea Sweetly's strongest feature?" the only other woman spoke up. "Is it your hair? Your taste in music? What would Chelsea be if she weren't you?"

Chelsea thought about this for a minute. One of her personal trademarks was admittedly her heavy use of mascara and liquid eyeliner, but once again, Lita's own entrance video began with a closeup of the eyes. As far as that was concerned, Chelsea was not interested in copycatting.

The room once again began to chatter among themselves, bringing up ideas of her training in a weight room or getting her fingernails painted black, Chelsea couldn't help but get lost in the talk, no longer able to follow any conversation as new ideas were being tossed around left and right.

Eventually, she stopped trying to hear what was being said. Rather, she found herself wondering about freakin' gorgeous Roman Reigns again. He'd unabashedly been watching her intently through the tail-end of her session with Ambrose. Didn't he have better things to do than watch a friend train someone? Not that she really minded; it was nice to have some eye candy around here. Part of her hoped that he'd be around more often when she had to work with Dean simply because she wanted to catch his eye, no matter how childish and ridiculous that sounded. Although, Chelsea idly wondered if having him around would stray her focus from training and prevent her from actually doing something in the company this time.

 _No_ , she decided, _that's not going to happen._ As beautiful as the long-haired, muscled Samoan god was, the chances that she had shimmying up to him were slim to none, and she knew that. He didn't say much, and he was really hard to read. Combine her messy past with her history, and things would definitely explode in her face. That being said, she would certainly not allow this guy to avert her focus on her one main goal: Regain credibility. If she could handle coming back to the company with her tail tucked between her legs, AJ's horrible mistreatment, and being trained by goddamn Dean Ambrose of all people, she could certainly handle the gorgeous guy her trainer was good pals with meandering about their training sessions. That didn't mean anything more had to come of it.

"Okay, so, this is what I'm thinking," Arlena had spoken once again, her clear French accent breaking into Chelsea's personal thought cloud and distracting her brain from all things Samoan. "Let's say we, how do you say, _pan camera_ into Chelsea Sweetly's hotel room, and we catch her with her arms propping her on the nice sink, looking at herself in the mirror, and throwing a punch."

"And then what?" John Laurenitis spoke, his brow crinkling as much as it could. "I don't see good entrance video work here."

The blonde woman thought. "Let's get a picture of her putting her eyeliner on. If we're focusing on her being an anti-diva, throwing a punch at her reflection is perfect. It's the best statement she can make: that she's careless about the things that the other women think are important."

The team began to nod, and Chelsea shook her head carefully. "I don't want to focus on my eyes, though. That's been done, you said so yourself."

"This is true," Arlena agreed. "Yes, you're right. You can do better, I think," she paused for a moment, reading her own notes before continuing:

"Let's cut out the bit about putting on makeup. Instead, we will focus on your reflection. It will be uncharacteristic of you. Let's put on a blonde wig, perhaps. Then after you throw your punch, we'll have a shattered camera filter of you unzipping your black sweatshirt or whatever, tossing it on the floor, and we'll get a nice, broken view of that tattoo," she jabbed her pen towards Chelsea's shoulder.

"A metamorphosis!" spoke up another person. "An NXT caterpillar into a beautiful, dark, evil butterfly!" there was a little giggling, but the blonde French woman shot an angry glare to the room, and in a near instant, the goons managed to stifle their giggles and hush themselves. The control Arlena could gain that quickly was amazing, and Chelsea couldn't help but to be impressed that she didn't seem to let the men push her around, despite her gender.

 _Impressive!_

"The next shot we see of you, you will have your dark hair and dark eyes. Like breaking the mold of a diva, in a sense," Arlena continued, talking to nobody but herself. Despite that, the appreciation for her ideas couldn't be ignored as each of the other members of the meeting were typing away or writing furiously on their legal pads.

"We can use that image for most your entrance, throwing some fades in there, and the final image...you, putting the pieces of your mirror back together," spoke up the tiny man that had spoken last, peering up from his screen only for a quick moment.

Chelsea had to admit, it was a pretty bad ass idea. It was different. It was getting the point across. And eventually, once she'd made a real in-ring debut, the package could only get better.

"I like it," she told Arlena, who was all, Chelsea was proud of her ink, a grueling twelve hours of her favorite tattoo artist's personal work put into it, and it wasn't completely finished yet. Having had a huge fascination with Greek mythology, the image was a beautiful, faceless woman with her head tipped downward, opening up a box, unleashing all sorts of things. Diamonds, pearls, lace, bats, and demons all swirled together, beginning on her arm and ending at the opposite's shoulder. Pandora's Box. In Latin, there was a quote swirling around the woman, that roughly translated to " _Curiosity often leads to trouble."_

"I will get the outline out to Stephanie right away, then," one of the others said, clicking around on his own computer, as though he was opening a new document.

"Perfect," Arlena tapped a perfect manicured finger on the fake wooden table. "With a perfect look comes a perfect song. What have you got?"

Chelsea looked down at her creased paper, crossing off a handful because they didn't really flow well in her mind with the pitched video.

"Well, Dean Ambrose and myself have come up with a new finisher for me, called Sweet Dreams. So I thought _Sweet Dreams_ by Marilyn Manson would be an interesting one."

The group talked about it, debating whether or not it was a good fit.

"Marilyn Manson gave us the rights to use _Beautiful People_ ," said one person, "I don't doubt he would give the green-light for us to use another one of his songs."

"True, but bringing something new and fresh would be even better," said another. "We want to capitalize on the weirdness factor of Chelsea Sweetly. We like the combination of beautiful, interesting, and weird. And while Manson is a good option, do we really want to tie our character into Marilyn Manson? Isn't there a new strange emo band on the horizon that wants a shot at some money?"

"True," John Laurentitis spoke once again. "Getting Manson's people to agree there, that might get kind of expensive..."

"Alright, Chelsea, what other ideas do you have scribbled down?" spoke the man that she thought was called Jackson.

"A band I've heard in concert a few times called _The Pretty Reckless,_ " Chelsea mumbled. "They're pretty intriguing, and I think they might have that newness factor that you guys seem to be looking for, as well."

"Oh, yes!" Arlena clapped her hands together excitedly, unable to hide her joy. The whole room stopped their buzz to look her way, the loud exclamation from her distracting each person. The blonde French woman blushed, but still kept her cool. "I was a huge fan of the show _Gossip Girl._ I loved the little blonde girl called Jenny Humphrey so much, that when she left her role, I needed to know why. Turned out, she was a lead singer in this band. I've heard her voice, and it's hauntingly beautiful. Much like you, Chelsea Sweetly," the woman's eyes held Chelsea's for a moment, her accent very thick through her explanation. "I say, this is a high possibility."

"Well, alright then, let's get searching!" proclaimed another tech guy, beginning to hook up his personal computer to the projector that had thus far sat unused. "We've found a possible band. Let's see if we can find a song that properly characterizes Chelsea Sweetly into the dark little angel we all have in our imaginations."

In a swirl of talking and excited banter, the next hour or so was solely based on combing through songs. A few people had begged to just ditch the legalities and use a Jim Johnston or CFO production, but Arlena seemed quite set on this band.

 _Another reason_ , Chelsea decided, _that I like having this woman on my side._ Being able to have something new and original was an honor, and every other idea pitched was being vetoed relentlessly by Arlena. It seemed that this blonde Frech woman was the head of the technology and computer team, something that Chelsea would have never thought or guessed in a billion years.

After grueling debate and hundreds of YouTube songs later, everyone in the room came to an agreement: Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless.

An excellent song, Chelsea felt. It was fairly well-known, but would still make the kind of statement that she was looking for. Playing with the sound clips, they decided to start the music after the mirror punch, using the beginning rifts of the song as a soft introduction to Chelsea's character.

For the first time in a long time, Chelsea was looking forward to something in the future. She was looking forward to the finished project, and given the proper copyright and McMahon approval, they had scheduled the shoot for her video Friday morning. Fuck Natalie and her bitchy self, and all of the rude things she'd said. Fuck everyone who thought that Chelsea Sweetly would just go back into nothingness. Fuck the past, and fuck Dean Ambrose for being a pile of shit.

But most of all, fuck Jeff Hardy for forcing her to become the very thing she never wanted to be. All of those people and all of those things would be in her rearview mirror soon, because Chelsea knew, deep down, that this character and storyline were meant to be. Things were going to change for her, and she could only go up from here.

Shoot, even the song that they'd chosen for her was a statement of her vow to be better than the woman she used to be:

 _Take me, I'm alive._

 _Never was a girl with a wicked mind._

 _But everything looks better when the sun goes down._

 _I had everything, opportunities for eternity._

 _And I could belong to the night._

 _Your eyes, your eyes. I can see in your eyes, your eyes..._

 _You make me wanna die._


	7. Chapter 7

**Welcome back, and hope everyone has a very happy Easter holiday! If I don't see you before then, of course.  
**

* * *

Roman Reigns had heard Natalya humiliate Chelsea yesterday in front of some of the management and the entire tech crew. She had just exited the gym, stopping to get something from the vending machine before deciding to take personal jabs at the newest WWE diva. Roman had been in the gym himself, focusing on his cardio with his headphones jammed into his ears—but pulled them out once he'd noticed the raven-haired beauty just across the hall. He had chuckled to himself upon seeing her wearing those damn sandals again, while Laurenitis was, as always, wearing a button-up shirt and slacks. Curiosity got the best of him as he strained to hear their conversation, but all he really heard was the Hart Foundation's finest flap her gums.

The tall Samoan man couldn't help but feel badly for Chelsea. He didn't know much of her story, and maybe he never would. Whatever she'd done, though, definitely had rubbed Natalie the wrong way—earlier in the morning, Jimmy Uso had made a mention that Natalie had spouted off about her briefly during this week's taping of Total _Divas_. Though he didn't know what was said precisely, he had heard what Natalie had to say to Chelsea yesterday. If she could be that awful to the woman's face, she would be vile behind her back. Roman could be sure that whatever Nat said in front of the cameras, it wasn't anything nice.

Then again, it would definitely add fuel to the fire, which he assumed was where the creative team was going with this whole thing. They would probably use the _Total Divas_ angle, once again blending the wrestling world with reality television. They'd done this ridiculously much lately, and while nobody was particularly fond of the route they were taking for the Divas division, it would make for a broad audience spectrum. At the very least, it would capture even more female fans.

Roman sighed to himself, next wondering where the team was headed with the Shield storyline. Right now, it looked pretty shitty. He wasn't quite sure that any of them were yet ready to branch off and do some single's matches when they hadn't fully gotten to their maximum potential. Yet, the writers continuously teased the cracks in the foundation, and rumors had already swirled regarding the trio's breakup.

In fact, last week, Dean had left his two brothers during a bout, telling them to figure out the match on their own. Without him. But tonight? They'd be together in the ring again, as though nothing had ever happened.

"What's up, Ro? Surprised you're not heading to creep on more of Dean's little training sessions," Seth had appeared, breaking his train of thought. The smaller man pulled up a chair next to Roman's, joining him in the catering room. The evening's trip had been very short, but for the next week, he'd be traveling through a few cities before the WWE superstars made their way to Georgia.

"Nah," Roman replied as he took a swig of his water bottle, his eyes focusing on the monitor. Jack Swagger was currently giving a promo. While he wasn't particularly interested in what Swagger had to say, he had a feeling he knew where Seth was going with this conversation. The distraction would serve it's purpose as an out, not wanting to participate in his brother's interrogation.

"Why not? You had a great time poking fun at Dean last time," Seth continued, ignoring the fact that Roman had been giving off all the signals indicating he didn't want to talk. "In fact," Seth kept it up, "Dean was kind of getting pissed. It was fuckin' hilarious."

"I just don't want Dean to think I'm on to something," Roman admitted, not taking his eyes off from Jack Swagger.

"But you _want_ to be on something, don't you? Specifically, you want to be on little 'ol Chelsea Sweetly," Seth accused, a large grin spreading over most his face as he batted his eyelashes in an overly dramatic way.

Roman looked at his friend, his eyes incredulous. How could Seth had known that the woman had piqued his interest?

"Excuse me?" Roman asked, his brows knit together tightly.

"C'mon, Ro, be honest with yourself. And with me. You basically were undressing that little weirdo with your eyes the other day," Seth continued, not bothered by Roman's sharp looks.

Roman laughed once, awkwardly clapping his best friend's shoulder as he did so. "Dude, are you sure that wasn't _you_? She's more your type, after all."

Seth smirked, giving thought to his final statement. Roman couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as Seth appeared to be turning over the idea of hooking up with Chelsea in his head.

"I mean, usually, she's exactly the type that I would go for," Seth admitted finally. "She's cute. Different. Got a mind of her own. And honestly, she's got one smokin' body. But I saw the way you were looking at her, and it seems to me that you've finally found someone that sparks your interest. I would be happy to step aside if you were interested in the slightest. Y'know, bro-code and all."

Roman shrugged, unsure of how his friend was able to read him with such little effort. All this while, he thought he'd done well at feigning disinterest. He remained the brooding, dark-haired strongman that the WWE Universe had come to know and love. Unfortunately, Seth knew him in real life. And Seth knew that he was a gentle giant, and deep down was hoping for one day, finding a happily-ever-after.

"You're right," Roman confirmed after a silence. "I don't know what it is about her, but she's like, fuckin' magnetic. She isn't anything like the women around here. She doesn't give a fuck about what the other women think of her. I think that's pretty admirable. But, Two-Tone," Roman clicked his tongue and smiled as Seth cringed at the terrible nickname he'd been given back in NXT, "I think you know where my loyalties lie. The only thing I'm focused on right now is the love of my life. My career," Roman stated the last bit with finality.

Seth nodded, understanding where his friend was coming from. "I know what you mean, Ro. I'm not saying you should jump headfirst into a relationship with someone, though. Just 'cause your career comes before anything else doesn't mean you can't have a little locker room fun on the journey to the top."

Roman rolled his eyes in response this time. "Knock it off, you horny bastard. The last thing I need is a distraction like that."

"Dude, you've already been distracted!" Seth countered, twisting his mouth to hide his laughter. "I have eyes, too. You want to find out what's hiding underneath those yoga pants, and I can tell."

"Fuck off, Seth," Roman grumbled, no longer wanting to carry on.

Seth laughed as his response, acknowledging his dismissal.

Relishing in his friend's departure, he breathed a sigh of relief. The silence was eerily overwhelming, yet quite welcome. Seth knew more than he let on, generally about everything. In the future, Roman had to work harder at being unreadable.

But Seth was wrong about one thing. While Seth still enjoyed playing the field, Roman wasn't interested in any of that. The last thing he'd do would be waste time on a girl. Even more, if he _did_ find one worth his time, it would be with the intention of staying together as long possible.

And Roman had to admit, Chelsea Sweetly had grabbed his attention.

 _She could be the one._

* * *

"Chelsea, I'm glad you're here already. We have a big problem," Smackdown's General Manager, Vickie Guerrero, had addressed the taller woman. Vickie was walking down the narrow backstage hallway as she spoke.

Chelsea wasn't prepared whatsoever for the Smackdown tapings, despite the herds of fans who had already started to form in groups outside of the arena. Although she was mentally ready for the night, hair and makeup was an entirely different story. Chelsea had been waiting for a half an hour behind this godawful, wretched woman known as Summer Rae. She had been complaining to the hairstylist the entire time she'd been in her chair, making snide remarks about her sub-par talent using a simple curling iron.

Chelsea's eyes shifted as Vickie now stood before her, glad for another person to be in the area besides for snotty Summer. Though Vickie willingly took the butt of many jokes on television, she was highly respected backstage. That meant she also had the power to persuade higher members of management, and her voice would be heard loudly if she found something displeasing. Hopefully, she'd heard the way Summer Rae was verbally assaulting the tired-eyed woman who couldn't quite get the blonde's hair to hold a curl.

Vickie looked just as much a cougar as always, sporting a flimsy silver halter and black pants.

 _Still better than my own sweet wardrobe,_ Chelsea thought to herself sarcastically. She hadn't gotten to change her clothes yet since she'd been hanging out here, patiently waiting for this bitch to hurry it up. At this rate, she'd be announcing for the show this evening wearing her scrubby black leggings and oversized t-shirt that had a graphic of a cupcake on it. This very rolled-out-of bed look would be finished off with her black flip flops, of course.

And though she personally wouldn't have minded going out to the ring in this outfit, it wouldn't sit well with management. It wasn't considered to be an "appropriate" look for a WWE diva.

"What's up, Vickie?" Chelsea asked the older woman, her eyes flicking from the blonde bimbo to the GM. Chelsea had gotten to know the wife of WWE Legend, Eddie Guerrero, fairly well during her short run with NXT. Mostly because, she supposed, Vickie was great friends with Chelsea's pro at the time, Maryse. Although Maryse didn't always see eye to eye with Chelsea, Vickie often did. It was nice to have a high-profile person watching your back, and Chelsea did what she could to remain on Vickie's good side.

"Bad news, Chelsea. Our interviewer, Matt, is out for the night with a godawful stomach bug. There must be something nasty going around, 'cause I've just gotten the report that AJ Lee is out for the night, too."

Chelsea had to bite her lip really hard to avoid smirking. AJ sure lucked out tonight; at least now it didn't look so sketchy that she'd performed her little disappearing act.

"Okay…" Chelsea's confusion was carried in her voice. She wasn't a hundred percent on why Vickie was telling her any of this.

"Well, Matt was supposed to do a few interviews tonight with some of our superstars and divas. The first one being with the Shield."

Chelsea's heart almost came up through her throat.

 _Was she asking me to try my luck as an interviewer? A replacement for something I've done_ once _in my entire career?_

Vickie must have noticed the confusion and hesitation in Chelsea's eyes as she gingerly grabbed her shoulder in a somewhat motherly way. "Come on, Chelsea. I know you can do this. You rocked it during Raw on the announce table, and everyone has taken notice. I've got faith that you can do the same tonight. I wouldn't ask if I didn't need a decent interviewer tonight," Vickie's eyes plead, and the diva could tell that she was desperate.

"Alright. Just, um, let me know what I'm supposed to talk about…?" her voice fluctuated upward, so it seemed more a question than an acceptance. Chelsea knew she had absolutely zero experience as far as interviewing went. But she was determined to keep the uppers happy, so she sure would put in a solid effort.

Vickie clapped her hands together, appearing as a weight was lifted off from her shoulders. Her face visibly lifted, and Chelsea ignored the fact that she had no idea what to expect. She didn't even know how many interviews she had scheduled for the evening.

It was nice to see Vickie genuinely smile.

"Great! I'll get the notes to you in ten minutes, they're in my office yet," Vickie then turned to Summer, who was still bantering with the stylist as she sat in the chair. Everything about the scene made it clear that Summer Rae actually believed that she was better than the woman trying her hardest to make her camera-friendly.

"You. Out of that chair. I've got to get Chelsea going here," she shrilly told the blonde, jerking her thumb towards the nearest exit. Summer Rae turned to Chelsea, rolled her eyes, and slipped out of the vinyl-covered chair. She was clearly unhappy with the unfinished product of her hair, the soft curls falling flat despite the amount of hairspray.

 _But really,_ Chelsea thought to herself, _Summer's nasty-looking fried hair won't get much better than that!  
_

* * *

Chelsea ran through the interview a few times with the three men, definitely nervous as hell. The questions were pretty simple: Were they seeing things differently? Is that why Dean had left the other men defenseless in last week's triple tag match? Were they about to see the end of the popular tag team?

Luckily, Seth was so goofy that he made things a little less awkward. He said she'd be fine after she'd mentioned she was a last-minute replacement, but then went ahead and joked that she had spinach in her teeth. Dean looked salty and did his best to ignore her, and she had no idea why. Their training session had gone fine, without any real hitches…so she could only assume that it wasn't her that he was so pissy about.

But then Roman joined the three of them, prepared to take part of the interview. Almost immediately upon seeing him, she felt an embarrassing realization that she was face-to-face to the subject of her dream the night prior. She stiffened when he joined his friends, Chelsea's voice catching as her heart began to beat crazily.

Roman raised an eyebrow at her, signifying that he'd noticed the change in her demeanor. It was like he knew. Like perhaps she was transparent, and he could tell that her subconscious kept trying to hook up with him in dreamland. Instantly, the dream came flooding back to her, the entire room spinning as she recalled it:

 _Jeff was particularly happy today, and it made Chelsea feel great. Even though she never knew which version of his ever-changing personality to expect at any moment, the man that she'd spent her off-day with was by far her favorite person.  
_

 _They were giggling, on the swings at the park just across the street from the hotel. Sure, they were high as shit, but it was great acting like a kid again. No cares in the world, and no real obligations except for hanging out with each other.  
_

 _Jeff pressed his head against Chelsea's, who was sitting on the black plastic swing seat allowing the gentle push of the wind to move her.  
_

" _I like the teal in your hair," he told her, brushing his lips against hers as he carefully ran his fingers through the ends that she'd carefully dyed the bright blue color.  
_

" _Thank you," she told him, a big smile across her lips. "It looks good on you, too. Even better than the purple."_

 _Jeff smiled back, giving his friend another kiss. This time, though, Chelsea pulled him in closer, deepening their moment. She nibbled his bottom lip, making him quietly moan. Stroking his hair, she grabbed a handful, noticing that it wasn't teal anymore._

 _It was black._

" _You know what looks good on you, Chels? Nothing." Roman smiled as he slipped a finger through her belt loop, pulling her up from the seat.  
_

"Alright, ya'll. We're going to be shooting in three minutes!" someone yelled.

Thankfully, Chelsea was brought back to the real world, startling her enough to shake off the butterflies that she was feeling. She watched as Roman shifted, knowing that the air in the room was oddly stagnant. Instead of looking any of the Shield members, she grabbed the WWE microphone that had been placed near her. She tapped the foam mouthpiece once to ensure it was on.

Something that Chelsea had noticed about her dreams was that they were always actual past events. Memories that she'd tucked away, trying to force from her mind altogether. But the past few had taken an odd turn, morphing the memory with...what? Sexual desire? Fantasy? She couldn't be sure why Roman kept appearing in them. It was like even her psyche had been lusting after the Samoan. The last dream, she'd written off as a fluke. Now, dreaming of Jeff made sense: They were in a painful relationship, elevated by drugs and a whole lot of stupid drama. Not to mention, he was her first real heartache.

One of her goals was that to someday never have to see Jeff again. And that meant in her dreams, too.

Still trying to keep her eyes off from the towering man who seemingly kept getting close to her, Chelsea pretended to be fixated on removing a piece of nonexistent lint from her dress. Tonight, she wore ripped black tights underneath a black and purple cut-out dress, revealing her cleavage just slightly. She was surprised when Vickie had given her the nod of approval on her outfit, especially since it was quite different than the outfit chosen by Stephanie McMahon earlier. The only thing Vickie asked was that she slip on a pair of high heels, which she begrudgingly agreed to.

No matter. If she had to dress up, at least she could wear whatever she wanted tonight.

Chelsea smoothed her dress again, looking down at her legs, and feeling like she was ten feet tall. But, when she looked up and met Roman's eyes, she remembered that she was still a swell 5'6.

"Hey," Roman's voice was velvety smooth. He took a step closer, his combat boots scraping against the floor.

"Er...hey," she replied, her eyes searching his. Questioning his intention.

"Your clip thing is coming undone," he finally said, holding her gaze long enough to be questionable. Roman gently pushed the bobby pin that held her bangs back into place, her eyes bright and wide as he performed such a gentle, noble gesture.

"Much better," he stated. "The world can see your beautiful eyes, now."

"I...thanks," she replied dumbly.

Roman pulled away quickly, clearing his throat. Seth smirked, most definitely aware of the electricity buzzing, but pretending he hadn't noticed. Dean, however, actually hadn't noticed at all. His head had been buried in his iPhone, unaware of the chemistry between his good friend and his...trainee.

"Camera's rolling in thirty!" someone shouted, and cameras began to surround the four. Chelsea took a deep breath, and waited, her eyes locked on the tiny dot of the camera that began to flash red.

Without much trouble besides a few stumbles, she'd managed to make it through the , she hadn't needed to do much talking. The interview was mostly Dean rambling about how the Shield was not going away anytime soon, give or take a few nods and grunts from the other two. During his monologue, Chelsea couldn't help but be mesmerized at how well Dean Ambrose was able to capture emotion in his voice. The interview turned into a short promo, and Chelsea decided that she'd have to watch a few of Ambrose's past interviews to study his craft. She could only hope she would be able to speak as eloquently as he did. Not that she'd ever admit that to him, of course.

Her jitters had completely disappeared, but she knew it was about time to wrap it up.

The Shield's last remarks included a challenge to The Usos. Ambrose, in his twisted own way, asked them to step up their game and meet them in the ring.

Chelsea turned to the camera, flashing her smile brightly. "Sounds like a challenge to me. We'll see what the Usos think about that, next." Of course, the Usos would be coming to the ring after the commercial break in their ring gear as an "answer" to the challenge.

"That's a wrap," one of the men announced, and all three cameras and six or seven people ran off, going on to whatever they had to get to next.

Chelsea breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she'd managed to get through the first interview with ease. Unfortunately, she still had to interview goddamn Natalya yet. Natalya was going to spout off about her hopes in defeating AJ for the Divas belt, only to be interrupted by the beautiful yet talentless woman known as Eva Marie.

As much as Chelsea wanted to dip out of that particular interview, she'd decided to remain professional. She had to. It was the only chance in repairing her reputation.

"See? You did great," a nasally voice said to her. She didn't need to turn to know which member of the brotherhood had spoken to her. She lightly smiled, beginning to walk down the hallway to meet up with Vickie and get some much-needed feedback before the rest of her interviews. Luckily, if the editors weren't happy with something, they could cut scenes. That was the beauty of the show being taped. Less room for error.

"Thank you, Seth," she answered the man who was now walking alongside her, effortlessly keeping up with her strides.

"Are you doing anything after the show?" he asked, grabbing her elbow. He'd stopped, turning to her with an excited expression. She'd halted, too, without even realizing it.

 _Is he asking me on a date? Oh, fuck. He's not my type at all...How do I let him down gently?  
_

"Uh…no, but I'm not particularly…"

"Great! I know we've all only just met. But hey, since you're training with the Dean Master, so we might as well all chill. We'll be ordering some pizza tonight, for sure. Ro just rented 2K14, so bring your A-game."

"I don't know, Seth. I appreciate the invite, but it sounds like a bit of a sausage party. Not the kind of party I want to crash…" she trailed off, but Seth put up his hand.

"Knock it off. It might be fun for you. Besides, you said you had nothing going on, anyways. We'll get the details to you later."

But Chelsea gulped as Seth rejoined the other two members, who were trying to figure out which staircase they were supposed to enter from tonight.

 _Well, that was unexpected. Could tonight get any stranger?_

Yes, it could. And it would.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, everyone! Hope you're enjoying this story. :) Leave me a little love, 'cause it's my birthday!  
**

* * *

"Chelsea Sweetly, standing by with the number one contender for the Diva's championship belt, Natalya. Nat, as we saw the other night on Raw, the current champion, AJ Lee, was able to overcome odds against your cast mate, Naomi. Your match with AJ is getting closer, but can you see yourself being able to get through AJ's seemingly unbreakable wall?"

Natalya's grin grew wide as her eyes angrily flashed towards her former friend. Chelsea thought, for a moment, perhaps she'd botched part of the scene. It was taped, so they could re-do the scene later if they had to. But the fans there that night, they saw the error up close and personal.

"Well, Chelsea. Do you see yourself when you put your makeup on in the morning? Or do you always put it on in the dark?" Natalya said, a faux sweetness to her voice.

Chelsea felt her face get hot. No, she definitely hadn't botched anything. But Nat had, and did so intentionally. That little bitch comment was not in the notes that Vickie Guerrero had handed off earlier in the evening.

"To be honest, Chels? I know you and AJ Lee have formed somewhat of an alliance. I know you have no interest in watching me knock her down a few pegs," Natalya clapped Chelsea on the shoulder, causing her to jump unexpectedly. "But at the end of the day, AJ is just another roadblock in the way of what ought to be mine," Nat turned and smiled to the camera. She was back on script now.

"So how do you-" Chelsea started, but Natalya jerked the microphone away, continuing her piece:

"The only unbreakable wall that the little gremlin AJ has is that Yeti named Tamina Snuka. So no, I'm not worried. What can she possibly do to prevent AJ from tapping out to the sharpshooter?" Natalya had slowly grown closer, and Chelsea could smell her sickening, sugary sweet perfume.

With a creepy, demonic smile, Nat's eyes were tiny slits as she glared at the black-haired woman. "Don't get excited, Chelsea Sweetly. I know you're not much of a wrestler these days, but the sharpshooter is my finishing move…not any kind of injectable," Natalya bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

With that, she winked right into the camera, leaving Chelsea stunned, mouth open, mic in hand, and the fans present in Orlando speechless. Eva Marie, who was supposed to have interrupted and challenged the blonde Canadian, was still standing off to the side. She, too, stood by wordlessly.

The last clip from the interview shown on the titantron was of Chelsea angrily throwing the WWE microphone on the cold, smooth concrete. She hoped that the camera had missed the angry tears that started to spill on to her cheeks.

* * *

Roman sat with his two closest friends in their assigned locker room, staring at the tiny TV screen provided in complete shock. The WWE had tried to push the envelope in the past, but something about that segment felt raw. The look on Chelsea's face was entirely clear: There was no way that interview was approved.

"Wow," Roman said to himself, realizing that he'd finally spoken. Both Seth and Dean turned to look at them, their curiosity piqued. Roman normally didn't show much interest in other storylines, let alone one that included the divas division. Trying to hide his intrigue, the largest of the three cleared his throat quickly. "Sorry. That looks like one nasty catfight."

Seth, mouth agape, shook his head and looked across Dean's chest at his oldest friend. "Yeah, I'd say so. Can they even say something like that on PG TV?"

"Doubtful," the Samoan replied, clipping and un-clipping his leather wrist cuffs. "They'll probably cut that for Friday night before it airs on TV. Or, maybe re-shoot it with Renee tomorrow. Either way, I see one hefty fine in Natalie's immediate future."

"Think they might take away her title shot?" Seth asked, and Roman considered that. He supposed it was entirely possible, if she'd ticked off the boss enough. 25,000 people _did_ just witness her call the newest announcer and interviewer a drug-addict. Even if that scene was edited or cut later on, it surely would make its rounds on Twitter.

"She won't lose her shot, but she won't get the gold," Dean spoke for the first time, his face expressionless. His eyes were cold and dead, and his features were frozen in stone. He'd been acting really strangely recently, constantly annoyed by either someone or something. "It was a shitty thing to call her out like that publicly. But really guys, it's not like what she said about her was a lie."

The two men turned inward at Dean, who was positioned in the middle on the wooden bench. He pretended not to notice as he began a new text. Roman caught a quick glimpse at the contact picture —a blonde with sunglasses hiding her eyes, and doing what Naomi had once called the "Duck Face." That woman, unfortunately, was the only woman Dean had shown any interest in since a nasty break-up a few years ago. And although Dean had never said what had happened between himself and his ex, Roman knew that Dean felt guilty about it.

"What?" the sandy-haired man asked, noticing his friends' stares after he pressed 'Send'.

"Dude," Seth said back, shaking his head as though he didn't approve of Dean's comment. Roman shook his head along, miffed that Dean would even agree with the cruelty hidden within the words of the number one contender.

Everyone had a past. Roman had one, too…and so did Dean. The only difference was, none of them had received such hatred from their colleagues that their dirty laundry was aired. Sure, there was always the gossip. That was inevitable in any workplace. But the measures that the _Total Divas_ star was taking were amazing. It was quite clear that Natalie knew about Chelsea's struggle, but he could tell her loathing went much deeper than that. Nat felt that she'd been betrayed. That, perhaps, her friend chose a substance over an alignment.

Roman had seen it before, even in his extended family. Sometimes, drugs just outweighed the importance of other things. Even if you didn't want them to. They were a slippery slope, and by the time you decided to stop going downhill, you were already falling face-first over your own feet.

Dean sighed. "Look guys. I don't have a real problem with Chelsea. Really. She's fine in the ring, and she has been working really hard to improve. For the most part, she deserve a spot on the roster. My real issue with Chelsea stems from fuckin' Jeff Hardy. God, I hated him. He was ignorant and an embarrassment to the sport. He showed up to fight Sting blasted out of his mind while wrestling for TNA! Yet, she protects him like he's some sort of saint. Clearly, she still falls head-over-heels for that fuck face. I don't get it. Not to mention, it's hard to see her with her black and teal hair and not think of him, too. She still emulates his presence and I don't think she even realizes it."

Roman thought about that. He knew that Jeff Hardy had been in a serious relationship for quite some time, and had pretty recently gotten married. From what he knew, Chelsea and Jeff were just friends. From what he could tell, Chelsea had fallen for him, and he was a straight-up user. How deep was Jeff Hardy's relationship with his so-called friend, though? Maybe she was still caught up in him.

"She's decent looking, besides that black shit she does to her eyes. But to me, she isn't worth getting to know beyond that. I don't feel bad that Natalya hurt her feelings...she deserves all the shade thrown her way," Dean was giving a monologue now, and even though Seth was ready to interject, the pseudo leader ignored him, continuing:

"'Cause between her past, her sketchy appearance, and the more retarded Hardy...she's pretty much ruined herself. Call it a twist of fate, but Chelsea is damaged, just like Jeff Hardy. Nobody is willing to take a risk on that. Besides, look at the women here, guys. Summer Rae, for example," his eyes darted towards Roman, who just rolled his eyes in response. Dean had been trying to hook up Roman with the blonde dancer for awhile now, despite Roman's clear disinterest.

"Women like Summer are the doting wives. The ones who take care of themselves, who look their best at every moment. Who take pride in their clothing choices. Just like my Marissa," Dean smiled to himself as he wiggled his phone in the air. "Trust me. Women like Chelsea are the problem with today's women. There is nothing good about Chelsea Sweetly. She will never be able to provide a stable future for anyone...trust me."

Roman scoffed, hoping his mate's ill-prepared speech was going to end soon. Dean wasn't always such a sucker for stereotypical women. It was that stupid girl he'd met that changed him into a complete tool recently. Sometimes Roman missed the old Dean, who didn't care what the label was on his jeans. But since hooking up with this bimbo from California, Dean wasn't even close to the same guy he'd gotten to know. Sure, his confidence had skyrocketed, but the Dean he'd been friends with before was the one that he'd liked. But again, after a tumultuous end to his last relationship, he had changed.

Roman cleared his throat once again, ready to respond. Seth beat him to it, though, as he asked Dean how he could possibly know what Chelsea's future consisted of.

Dean's face was splotchy now, his annoyance with the other two men growing with each passing moment. "This girl," he jabbed a finger at the TV, which was currently blue and signaling a commercial break, "Has nothing. Rubber shoes, Jeff's hair color, and ripped tights. She reminds me of a middle-school girl who is desperately crying out for attention. Don't be so stupid. Where's the future in that?"

"Yeah, well, you forgot the fact that she can out-maneuver _you_ in the squared circle," Seth mumbled, causing Roman to smirk. "But where's the future in _that_?" the smallest man mimicked Dean. Seth now laughed wholly, and Dean's jaw twitched as he kept his blood from boiling.

"Yeah, Dean. Tell me, can Summer Rae do that?" Roman now laughed along, the long-haired men antagonizing the ringleader.

"I'd definitely prefer getting pinned by Summer," Dean groaned as he shook his head. "Anything is better than the greasy rat."

"Well, that's great and all," Seth collected his laughs, but still chuckled. "But I like actually like Chelsea, and I think she's pretty rad. She's not like the other women here who stare into their mirrors as a regular pastime. I think she's actually got depth. I know AJ's out for the night, and Sweetly doesn't know a lot of people, so I invited her over to game. You're welcome," he stretched his arms back, folding them behind his head.

Dean turned again, his brows knitted together. "You didn't think to clear that with me?" he said coolly, clearly annoyed. The icy tone in his voice caused Roman to cringe.

"Didn't realize I needed your permission to try and make friends, oh Great One," mocked Seth, his goofy smile spreading across his face. Dean sighed yet again, running a hand through his hair.

"Whatever," he mumbled, getting up from his spot. He hurriedly left the other two alone, and Roman turned to Seth, simultaneously breathing sighs of relief.

"When did Dean become such a bitch?" Seth asked, notably peeved.

"When he started dating one."

* * *

"Aaaand, the winner of the 2014 Royal Rumble is…AJ LEE!" Seth announced theatrically, and Roman groaned, holding up his own PlayStation 3 controller in defeat.

Since Chelsea Sweetly wasn't a character on the WWE game, she had no choice but to pick her one lone friend. Roman played as himself, as did Seth and Dean. The latter were knocked out fairly early in the tournament, but Chelsea and Roman battled it out in the end.

"Yeah, like _that_ would ever happen," Dean mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips anyways.

"Very impressive," Roman turned to Chelsea. "Even more impressive is how quickly you managed to take out Seth. He thinks he's some sort of video game guru."

"Nice button mashing skills, dude," Seth fist-bumped Chelsea, which only made her laugh. "Where'd you learn to game like that?"

"Well, I used to spend my Saturdays playing against the real MVP. I was never good enough to actually ever win, but I did pick up a few tips and tricks from him."

"From who?" Seth asked, reminding Chelsea a bit of an over-excited puppy. "I'd like to have some serious competition. This was just a farce, losing to you."

"My brother," Chelsea replied with an endearing smile. "He's the best gamer that I know...well, second to me, of course."

It was true. The siblings had grown up together watching Stone Cold Steve Austin and the Attitude era, and no matter how long they'd been apart, it was like they were always able to pick up right where they left off. Back in the day, they spent hours dissecting the programs, theorizing angles and possible returns. They'd chattered about newcomers like Gene Snitsky, and laughed at Goldust. And always, they pretended to play their favorite character's storylines on both the original PlayStation and later the PlayStation 2. While Toby dominated most sports games, Chelsea was fierce competition when it came to any wrestling ones…especially when she'd create unbeatable characters that often were based on herself.

"Well, I'd like to meet him. And by meet him, I mean challenge him to an epic duel," Seth raised his can of Diet Mountain Dew, as if to give cheers.

"One day, you might. I promised myself that once I get back in the ring, I'd send him a ticket to cheer me on."

"Do you see him often?" Roman surprised himself as he spoke. Chelsea was seemingly very independent, and he'd found himself growing curious during the talk of her brother. Since his own family was so tight-knit, he generally had the misconception that everyone else's was, too. Though he knew the thought was extremely juvenile, it still surprised him a bit when he found out someone's home life was less than ideal.

"Not in awhile," Chelsea admitted sheepishly, her darkened eyes landing on Roman. She twisted her hair lamely, letting it unwind itself. "He's in the United States Air Force. So I did see him right after he graduated boot camp. But right now, he's doing more job training in Texas, I think."

Chelsea had to admit, she was glad that her relationship with Toby had began to deteriorate when she'd first began her career. She never, ever wanted her younger brother to see her in such awful shape. She had been pretty drugged during his boot camp graduation, but she hoped he was still pumped with adrenaline at the commencement of it to notice her zombie-like state. Though for the most part, the rest of her family, specifically her mother, was shamed by her drug habit and even more shamed when she'd disappeared to rehab. Chelsea knew that Toby wasn't stupid, and had probably been quite aware of her downward spiral. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that her mother had informed him of all her dirty misdeeds while writing to him. After all, her family sure did know how to talk about the odd-duck, which was, quite unfortunately, Chelsea.

"Can't wait to meet him," Roman responded, a sincere smile meeting her. There, he'd made some kind of a move. He hoped that she'd caught on to that.

"Hey, Ro, if I give you some change, you should run down to the vending machine and grab some candy," Seth started digging in his pocket, returning successful with a handful of coins.

"Sure, dude. What'd you want?"

"Not sure, really. Let Chels pick, she earned the consolation prize, after all," Seth winked at her, and she laughed again.

Roman loved her laugh. She had such a natural, tinkling one. He was really elated that it helped her mood being with his friends, even though Dean was still kind of in a shit mood himself. He had heard rumors earlier in the day about AJ Lee losing her title, which he guessed was the real reason she wasn't around during tonight's tapings. Since locker rooms talked, he also knew that AJ had quickly befriended Chelsea, seeing as they were both immensely disliked by the other divas. Though he never fully understood what the big issue with AJ was, he did fear for Chelsea. With Natalie Niedhart as a somewhat leader of the Total Divas, it seemed likely that the newcomer with black and teal hair was now an enemy to each of them.

Chelsea got up from her position on the floor before Roman did, her long-sleeved, plain black t-shirt clinging to her stomach. Roman had to tear his eyes away when a tiny peek of her lace red thong rode a little high above her jeans. Which, he had noticed, accentuated her rear nicely.

Maybe that's why he'd lost the game to the girl…she was fucking _hot_. A definite distraction. It worried him how much a distraction she might be. Didn't he just swear up and down he only had room for his career?

But, whatever it was that had him constantly wondering about her had made his mind cloudy. And although she was clearly a kid at heart, he found himself thinking that maybe there was more to this thing between them. He knew she'd be a tough case, with a broken past. Chelsea was different, and she didn't care that she was.

"Hey, Superman, are we gonna check out the heart attack machine, or what?" Chelsea's voice had brought him out of his own mind, and he stood quickly, feeling like a fool. How long had she been standing there, waiting for him? Judging by Dean's facial expression, it was long enough for them to notice.

She smirked at him eyes catching his despite the height difference. Chelsea headed towards the door, leading the way out of the room. Roman turned to his friends, and Seth caught his gaze, giving him a double thumbs-up and a ridiculous, over-caricatured smile. Roman promptly replied with a middle finger.

He followed Chelsea as her dumb black flip-flops padded against the blue carpeting. He kept trying not to focus on her taut ass, but it was tough…she put in just enough wiggle to her step for him to look, but not enough to make her look like she was trying too hard.

 _For fuck's sake..._

"So, this night's been really interesting," she commented, stopping at the vending machine. He noted she sounded almost sarcastic, and if he knew she was being serious, he'd have questioned it. She dug some change out of her own pocket, counted it, then got herself some Raisinettes.

"It's always interesting around here," Roman replied. "But since you showed up and caused the ruckus in the divas division, it's gotten much more interesting."

Chelsea laughed heartily, shaking her head. "If you mean by causing ruckus, ensuring that I'm the black sheep, then yes. I love wrestling. I've dreamed this since I was a little kid. But sometimes I still think that I should cut the ties while I can. People know what I did, and it blows. I hate to say it, but who I was is all I'll ever be."

Roman stood closer to the woman, whose face became blotchy with her confession. She had a bit of a breakdown, but he was grateful that she'd told him, of all people. Perhaps she was just hurting for anyone to listen to her screams, but that didn't seem like the type of girl that she was. What it came down to was that she trusted him enough to talk about it.

He could tell that she was frustrated with recent events. He couldn't blame her. But he felt as though she was sucking him in closer, and he almost ached to know this strange, beautiful, chaotic woman. He couldn't explain it, but if this was what falling in love felt like for Jimmy and Naomi, he was pretty sure that's what was going on.

 _Slow down, Superman._

"I heard once," Roman started, "This quote. It's something like, 'Let your past make you better, not bitter.' You know damn well you're not the same person you used to be. And if people look at you and see that? Well, that's their own damn problem." Roman felt like he was quoting from a novel, and the moment was almost too good and too perfect to be reality.

"You don't know me," she murmured quietly, throwing a handful of her chocolate raisins into her mouth. She was agitated, but still carried a wounded puppy look in her eyes.

"You're right. But the more I see you, and spend time with you, the more I think I'd like to."

Chelsea searched his face for a moment, not sure if he was being an asshole or not. Roman's face was solid, and if anything, honest.

"You don't know what I did, then," she answered, pushing him away. "Back then."

"It doesn't really matter."

"It does to me."

She turned away from him for only a moment, before looking at him again out of the corners of her eyes. He stepped towards her again, considering giving her a hug, but she backed away as though she could read his mind.

"I should really get going," she mumbled, tripping over her flip-flop. Roman caught her mid-fall, and she looked up at him again. He noticed that her darkened eyes were the purest of blue, with gold flecks around the middle. Just like a sunny day. If this were a movie, he'd kiss her. He would admit that he couldn't stop thinking about her, and he thought that maybe, despite his best intentions, she was the missing link in his life. _She could be the one._

He'd said he was worried about his career and didn't have time for a woman...but this moment made him think otherwise.

She broke the embrace quickly, embarrassed. "Tell Seth I said thanks. Really. I just have a long day tomorrow," she stumbled away from Roman. It wasn't far from the truth. She'd be shooting for her entrance video, plus training, plus either starting on the road or taking a few days off to go home.

Even though Roman worried that he'd scared her off, he knew he hadn't. If anything, he made her think. And maybe she wasn't ready to break her odd bond with the younger Hardy brother, but when she was, he wanted to be the reason she did.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So Roman knows that he's falling. Come on, Chelsea, break that weird bond you think you have with Jeff Hardy and fall, too!  
**

 **WARNING: The next scene is pretty violent. And this chapter goes between present day and flashback. I hate using italics, but I don't think I can pull off this bit without them. So, I apologize for that.**

* * *

 _Jeff was pissed. There was no way around it—he had just spent the past hour arguing with that average-looking thing he called his girlfriend. Chelsea could at least pride herself in knowing that in a looks contest, she would always win. That didn't matter, though. There would always be something that Beth had that Chelsea never would. He couldn't explain it, but he would never be able to walk away from her.  
_

" _She's mentioned you again," he growled angrily, making both Chelsea and their driver nervous. They'd opted to take a taxi this time, fully knowing how expensive the trip to the next city would be. But if they paid the driver properly, he would have no opinion on the skunky smell emerging from the back seat as Jeff lit his red, blown-glass pipe._

" _I don't know why she's so worried," Chelsea said back, taking a hit from the pipe. "She has you. I don't. The end."_

 _But Jeff was still annoyed, the mixture of marijuana and the painkillers he took a little while ago definitely clouding his head. "I don't like that she knows you even exist. That makes you look suspicious."  
_

 _Chelsea said nothing. She knew that if she did, she'd pay for it later._

" _Hey, driver, do you mind pullin' off at the next rest stop?" he asked, as gentlemanlike as he could. The sudden change in demeanor was kind of scary. How Jeff could flip between the insane, furious monster to an eloquent, normal human worried her._

 _The taxi driver tipped his uniformed cap in response, and Chelsea's palms began to sweat._

 _What could Jeff have in mind for her this time?_

 _The next stop came all too soon, and Jeff got out, pacing back and forth, pulling at his hair like a lunatic. Chelsea, still in a daze, followed him in hopes to be consoling. For the most part, they didn't do anything wrong. Not really. Not today._

 _Not with each other._

 _Jeff had been holding out on her lately. She would nibble at his neck, just as he liked. She wore that slinky black shirt today, showing off her chest, the peek of black lace from her bra showing slightly. She wore her hair down, curled perfectly, the teal fresh as ever…just as he liked._

 _She even had on_ those _jeans. If that wasn't enough to get him on top of her, she didn't know what else she had left.  
_

 _But nothing worked. Jeff was a dead soul, his integrity of trying to stay faithful overcoming her attempts. She had found herself in tears at the arena the night before, frustrated with Jeff continuously turning her away. He'd been worse than normal, always fighting some sort of an inner battle between right and wrong. All she could do was stand by and watch.  
_

" _I love my girlfriend, Chelsea. She is everything to me. But see, jacking off to porn isn't enough for me when I'm away from her. It's not enough to keep me satisfied. You see, Chelsea, that's where your sweet little pussy comes in," he was still pacing, his voice creepily calm. "But that's where I draw the line."_

 _Chelsea shivered, the icy tone he took with her chilling her to the bone. There was something like a horror movie feel to this moment. Jeff could kill her right now and leave her for an unknowing trucker. She shook all those crazy thoughts away. Jeff wouldn't hurt her like that._

 _Would he?_

 _"You've been fucking up my future. So, I think I ought to repay the favor." He turned to go behind the rest stop. Chelsea stupidly followed._

 _There were no cameras back there, and their taxi driver couldn't see them.  
_

" _Jeff…" she started, putting a hand on his arm. He stared at her fingers with his mouth curled, like maybe she had shit smeared on her hand or something.  
_

" _Who'd you mention our shit to?" he yelled. He didn't make sense often when he'd talked, but Chelsea knew that when he said 'our shit,' he meant, 'this fucked up relationship we have.' This wasn't the first time they'd argued about his stupid girlfriend, and probably not the last._

" _Nobody," she said calmly. Though, it was basic knowledge now that they had something going on. That's just what happened when you did everything with people you worked with. She wondered if she had Xanax tucked into her baggage yet, so she could just go to sleep until tomorrow. Until Jeff's mood brushed over, and then hopefully it could finally go back to normal._

" _I love you, Jeff. I know you want to keep things as they are, and as much as I hate it, I understand. But that's why I wouldn't say anything to hurt your relationship."_

 _Jeff scoffed. "What do you know about love, Chelsea?"_

 _Chelsea bit her lip. She did know that Jeff's so-called love for his dim-witted girlfriend wasn't real. If it were, he wouldn't use drugs to pretend he was okay, and he wouldn't use her to pretend he wasn't alone._

 _She also knew that what she felt for Jeff was what she suspected to be love. If only he'd returned her feelings._

" _That's what I thought." He'd turned away again, angrily. He balled up a fist, throwing it against the concrete wall._

" _I'm so sick of hiding things," he said through clenched teeth. Chelsea grew more nervous as Jeff became more obviously livid. Whatever he'd taken earlier was taking its toll on him, and he was angrier and more volatile than ever._

 _Chelsea yelped when she saw Jeff's hand, cracked with blood. But he neared her, his eyes still blazing._

" _You are not her," he said again. He'd said this hundreds of times. His mind was jumping all over the place, and Chelsea wondered how his brain was stringing together all this nonsense._

 _"I don't want you. And I can't let you continue to run your mouth and give Beth ideas that I'm shacking up with someone else!"_

 _His fist connected with her stomach, making her double over, kneeling to the ground. Kicking her, she was now on the concrete, holding herself and putting her hands over her head._

" _Jeff, come on…please, just stop," she sobbed, each blow a little harder than the last. She didn't understand why he was doing this to her. It was a vicious cycle, she knew, and in a few days, they'd be laughing together as he undressed her in a hurry._

 _He didn't stop. He stomped on her, pulled her hair, and even spit on her._

" _Get walking, you stupid bitch," he said, as he turned away, back towards the taxi._

 _As he turned, Chelsea almost thought she saw wings sprouting from his back. Call it a hallucination, but Jeff was still some kind of angel to her._

 _Even if what he did sometimes looked like the act of a devil._

* * *

"Wake up, Chelsea," Tamina was shaking her bunk mate awake, her voice almost motherly. "You keep on tossing and wimpering," she half-whispered, her voice still groggy.

Chelsea felt humiliated. She glanced at the clock—it was almost four a.m. She was supposed to meet Dean at 6 a.m., sharp. Her day was going to be packed full, and she had slept like shit.

"I am so sorry," she said, sitting up. "That was one of the worst nightmares I've ever had. It felt...all to real," she added, and she wasn't lying. The scar by her ribcage was burning. Her dear friend, Lennon, had joked in the past that it was her "Harry Potter" scar, but it wasn't really funny at all.

"Any chance that your nightmare had vibrant colored hair and expertly moonsaults off from ladders?" Tamina asked, her eyes squinting as she was trying to read the smaller woman's facial expressions.

"No," she responded, and she knew the daughter of the legend didn't believe her as soon as she said it. "I dreamt I got mugged," she offered, but the woman shook her head.

Tamina returned to the pull-out, her fluffy cheetah-print blanket spread over it. She had a lot to do in a few hours, too, and Chelsea felt horrible for waking her up with another stupid dream.

She hadn't had this one in awhile. Jeff still haunted her, and she hated that no matter what, it was like she had tucked him in her back pocket like a loose dollar bill. Her head was throbbing, and she wondered if it as just her memories at war with one another, trapped inside the cage that was her brain.

She decided to just wake up now, grab some coffee, and head down to the gym. She'd seen boxing gloves and a very worn, cracked punching bag there while she walked to her room yesterday. Though she knew nothing about boxing, she could easily pretend she was smashing Jeff in the face.

* * *

 _"Chelsea, what happened at the rest stop?" The athletic trainer had the woman up on the examination table, looking at her cracked, raw, dirt-crusted feet. Jeff had left her to walk from the rest stop to the nearest gas station, which was seven miles away, in just her rubber flip-flops. She'd called Natalie, but she was already at the next town, and she'd called Matt Hardy, but his phone went straight to voicemail. In a last-ditch effort, she called Derek, one of the athletic trainers that didn't shoot her dirty looks. Luckily, the trainer hadn't been much further ahead, and turned around to get the woman from the gas station._

 _"The taxicab left me there. I don't think he meant to, I think it was just a miscommunication. But then a gray van rode up, and I got nervous…there was a large man, and another smaller man that came out of it. He threatened that if I didn't give him money, he'd hurt me. Well, my bags were still in the taxi…" she trailed, clenching her ribcage._

 _It was so far from the truth, of course. But Derek seemed to buy it. She said she couldn't get a good look at the license plate, and that they'd pulled around back where she'd noticed there weren't any cameras. He still wanted her to file a full report, and she promised she would._

 _But of course she wouldn't. The whole thing never even happened. But it was believable, and it protected Jeff. That's all that mattered.  
_

 _"Well, Chelsea, I hate to tell you, but one of your ribs looks like it's cracked. And not just a regular crack. Those crooks did a number on you. If we don't get it where it belongs, it could puncture your lung."_

 _"But I have the diva battle royal coming up next week," she started getting up from the table._

 _"Chelsea, you'll be lucky to walk upright next week."_

* * *

Chelsea was sweating, and with each piece of the memory, she hit the punching bag. She didn't have a whole lot of work with these before, but it was an excellent stress reliever, and she could now understand the appeal.

She never was able to compete in that match. She'd been sidelined after Jeff's attack for a month, only getting to be a special guest referee once. The surgery to fix her broken rib was a quick one, but it left her with that nasty scar that was a definite eyesore. And, to this day, it still burned. That was the alleged "Harry Potter" scar...that somehow, some way, linked her to fuckin' Jeff Hardy. Just like everything else seemed to still.

She punched the bag again, sending it lobbing backwards.

Then, she recalled the day that she'd been called into Stephanie's office...

Another punch.

Then, she was fired.

With all of her might, she threw a right hook, picturing Jeff Hardy's smiling face, alongside his bride. It was an image that she wished she could forget, but it was burned into her memory forever. She'd begged Lennon to pull up the photo on her phone since she'd had her privileges reinstated a week before Chelsea did.

It was grotesquely against the rules, however. Seeking outside news sources was strictly prohibited, specifically because many people searched for news about themselves. That would often spark a downward spiral, as media was never too kind to those that were in rehab.

But, Chelsea had to know if the man she loved more than the air she breathed had truly gone through with it. Their last conversation had bothered her for weeks, and she hoped badly that he'd changed his tune, realizing that he had been wrong all along. She'd hoped that he'd decided to give up on goddamn Beth. But, it turned out, he'd forgotten all about his time with Chelsea Sweetly.

There it was, that wedding photo that had been circulating lots of the WWE rumor sites. He had indeed gotten married.

And when she saw that he had, she could've sworn a piece of her had died.

"Easy there, tiger," a rough voice surprised her, and she stopped, steadying the punching bag. She turned to see Roman, getting ready to work out himself. She instantly grew nervous, knowing that she still had only the makeup on she'd slept in. Jesus, she hated knowing that he'd see her like this. Raw and real.

Telling herself she didn't care what Roman thought, she smiled weakly. Alright, she cared. Just a little bit.

"You're up early," she said to him, and he started out towards the free weights.

"Not really. It's already quarter to six."

Chelsea began to panic. "Ah, shit. I've been pounding Jeff-er, this punching bag for that long? I need to get going to train with Dean…" she blushed, having confirmed to the Big Dog that she was pretending the punching bag was Jeff Hardy. Although, she figured, it was equivalent to Jeff's personality. Tough on the outside, and beat up and soft on the inside.

"Good news," Roman smiled, showing his teeth. She'd noticed he had one that was just slightly chipped. Overall, though, they were blindingly white. It was such a stark contrast between his naturally tan Samoan skin. "I'm training you today."

What the hell? Really?

"Why?" she asked slowly, afraid of his answer. She worried that maybe Dean had given up on her.

"Because you need a little bit of strength training. Not just physical," he added, looking back at her, selecting a ten-pound weight and handing it over. He began a rotation with his own, and she followed suit.

"You're letting them get into your head," Roman said after a few reps. "You know that this company is probably 40 percent talent, 50 percent attitude, and 10 percent management."

She wasn't sure what he was talking about at first, but she realized quickly that he was talking about Natalya. And Dean. And pretty much every other person that turned their noses up whenever she walked by. Sadly for her, she already had a bad reputation.

Chelsea laughed. "You forgot 80 percent looks," she said back. "Compared to the gorgeous women in the company, I'm kind of a potato."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Maybe you need a new mirror," he lead her towards the huge mirror nearest to the weights, where the muscleheads generally checked themselves out while they pumped their iron.

"Does that girl look like someone who's just average?"

Though she looked tired in her eyes, the rest of her was awake. She was proud of the muscle she'd put on. She did look pretty fierce. Less like a beanpole and more like a fit, proportioned young woman.

Though she wished she'd bothered to darken her eyes a little bit. The smeared eyeliner that had been melting off her face since from sweat wasn't really sexy. But still, she said nothing, feeling awkward as Roman stared at their reflections in the giant mirror.

"Didn't think so," Roman said back when she didn't respond, and she smiled at her reflection. "And Chelsea, you know it's not all about looks. Look at AJ-she's as normal as they come. But it didn't come easy. With working hard, you don't need to fit the mold of a so-called 'diva.' People just don't know how to react to what they don't understand."

Chelsea thought about that, and she knew he was right. Mr. Superman himself, Roman Reigns, giving her a pep talk? Had she really that obviously been hurt after Natalie's spat yesterday? And, did he really care, or was he just trying to be nice because of Dean?

Since Dean hated her, and she knew it, she decided he actually cared. Which was an odd feeling.

They'd moved on to more weights, the bench press, and the medicine ball. Roman was extremely cautious with her, and she took great appreciation to that. Sure, she knew how to work out, but to the level of his own fitness schedule? Nope.

* * *

Roman couldn't believe Dean had agreed to let him train Chelsea this morning But, he'd had another rough night of texting. The clicking from the back and forth texts between the lunatic and his whiny girlfriend had kept Roman awake, much to his dismay. So, Roman figured he just wanted to keep his girlfriend happy and continue to argue with his fingertips. He would never understand why he kept that bitch around.

Either way, they both got what they wanted. Roman wanted the woman to know that while he held interest in her, he still truly cared about her and wanted to protect her. He also wanted to make sure she grew a thicker skin, because there would be thousands of people talking shit about her once the fans began to form opinions. Natalie was nothing compared to the fans. Fans didn't know a damn about you, but would still shred you online. She wouldn't last long in the company if she let everyone walk all over her.

People always implied that he'd gotten his own push and been called up to the main roster just in lieu of his family. Fuck the fact that he worked hard as hell to be where he was. In fact, Roman Reigns had been struggling everyday and straining his shoulder so that he could put on a hell of a show. But people believed what they wanted, and Roman knew the truth.

He wanted to know Chelsea, and learn the truth about her. Not just what she wanted people to know, but the truth that she kept hidden.

He'd watched her in the gym for about ten minutes before he'd walked in, and she was muttering to herself with every punch. He wasn't surprised when she'd said she'd been kicking Jeff's ass—sometimes, imagining someone you hated really worked when it came to flying fists.

He watched her now, trying to mimic each move he made. He wanted to make a comment about her makeup being less frightening than usual, but managed to keep his mouth shut. He'd figured it out right away: that black eyeliner was some kind of a mask. Her eyes were a tell-tale to her thoughts, and she probably already knew that.

"So, are you heading back on the road right away? Or are you going home?" he asked her as she began adding weights to the leg press.

"Well, I'd rather dig a hole and lie in it for a few days before visiting my mom at home," she said. "I guess I'll see what Tamina's up to. Hopefully AJ comes back soon, 'cause as much as I like Tamina, without AJ as a buffer, we don't have much in common."

"AJ will probably meet up in the next city. If you want, you can come with me for a few days before hittin' the road."

"Where?"

"Miami."

Chelsea looked to be considering this offer. "You're asking me to come home with you?" she chose her words carefully, and when she said them, Roman felt like he was being a creep. He couldn't help but cringe.

"If you want. If you don't have anything better to do, of course. I have a nice guest room."

"What about Seth? And Dean?"

"Dean's just doing whatever Dean does on his days off. Probably arguing with Marissa, as that seems to be all he's doing. And Seth is planning on leaving to go visit Leighla within the next few days. I just kind of want time to escape for awhile...be comforted by my own home."

He watched her think about this again, hoping she'd say yes. Because then, he'd have more of a reason to get to know her, and he'd be able to gauge the way she was feeling about him.

He knew she felt something, because you just couldn't fake the kind of electricity that buzzed between them last night. Or right now.

"Do you have a gaming console?" she asked, completely serious. When he'd confirmed he did, her face broke into a bright smile.

"Well, Superman. I hope you did your thumb exercises, 'cause I'm going to kick your ass all over again on 2k14."


	10. Chapter 10

**More writing for the July 4th weekend here in the states. Because...'Merica.  
**

* * *

A few hours later, and the next thing on Chelsea Sweetly's itinerary was shooting for vignettes and her entrance video. Again, she didn't have much in-ring work to highlight, but she did have a look that was different and new. Focusing on that might help her gain some fan support. But, since she griped about it a little during their workout, Roman had insisted that he escort Chelsea to her shooting session. It kind of made sense since if they were going to skip town together, but having him there was unnerving. Naturally, she made him swear he wasn't going to stand there and watch. She was comfortable with him, but not really _that_ comfortable...

Unfortunately, Roman made it clear that he wouldn't make that promise. The shoot was going to be held within the hotel, because they had an immaculate suite open and available. The sort of suite that someone like Mariah Carey would be staying at. Apparently, there were diehard WWE fans on the staff. With the go-ahead from the hotel's owner, things quickly expedited. The hotel manager was thrilled to have the room used in a WWE video and offered the key card as soon as John Laurenitis had asked. Sure, there was only one major scene happening in the hotel, but that didn't seem to matter. Chelsea supposed it could be an interesting marketing scheme for the building.

Except...she wasn't really someone important in the WWE.

 _Not yet, but that doesn't mean you can't be,_ she told herself.

* * *

Roman stood by as a simple observer, ignoring one of the production assistants with huge tits fawning all over him. Although it seemed like this was dragging a little bit with all the cuts and re-shoots, the idea was a solid one. It seemed that the WWE was going to air clips of Chelsea's video, building up for an in-ring return. It would double as her entrance video once she got that far. He'd overheard one of the tech guys say that he didn't have much to work with for footage of Chelsea in the ring, since she didn't have many highlights. Someone hushed him, a woman, and assured him that once the video editing was over, they wouldn't need it anyways. Roman couldn't help but wonder why so much trouble was going into Chelsea Sweetly. It made him wonder...if perhaps she was being groomed for a bigger storyline?

Before the first scene, he watched as Chelsea sat in one of the makeup artist's chairs, her eyes closed as the woman patted some special foundation that apparently helped with the lighting. It was really nice to see her without the heavy makeup; she looked absolutely stunning. He realized that she didn't need much in order to be attractive.

But when the first scene was shot, he watched Chelsea lean into the mirror, looking at herself with absolute disdain. She was so good at the look of disgust upon seeing her reflection, he couldn't help but think that she did that every single day.

He watched as the camera caught her fumbling around the sink area for a black eyeliner pen, closing in on the woman as she lined her eyes heavily with black liquid. The sophisticated woman who was once in front of the bathroom mirror was replaced with what Chelsea wanted the world to see.

They cut the scene, and Chelsea turned to him and gave him a goofy grin with a thumbs up. He returned her grin with a toothy smile, still ignoring the chick who would have been ready and willing to find a different empty room if he'd given her the signal. Obviously, his presence with Chelsea wasn't enough of a deterrent. But, there were people who just never got the hint.

Next, he watched as the team shot awesome footage of Chelsea get frustrated with her reflection. She gripped the sides of the sink, unable to look back up at herself. When she did, she was teary-eyed (with the help of Visine). In one solid take, they got Chelsea in a great pose, ready to reel back and punch toward the mirror. Her fist stopped just a hair before the exterior, and he guessed that they would just edit in the shattered effect.

Roman recognized the salon-style mirror fondly; it looked very much like the one at the beauty parlor his mom used to drag him to when he was a young child. He would be left to look through tons of magazines while she got her "hair did." Snapping from his happy memory, he could easily imagine the glass shattering. Chelsea's intensity in the shoot was fantastic, and her facial expressions clearly captured the animosity. But then, Roman thought how, regardless of the concept, she had no reason to be angry over how she looked. People just expected her to be something she wasn't, and he supposed that was a heavy load to carry.

But, that dress—he couldn't take his eyes off from her in it. It was black, and the corset-style of the top accentuated her breasts to the point that Roman idly wondered if they were real. He guessed that they were. The skirt of the dress flared out just a little bit, but was just long enough to cover her panties.

 _Damn._

Paired with some buckled, black high-heel boots, Chelsea looked like a sex goddess that just broke out of hell. Roman couldn't tear his eyes away, and he had a good feeling that Chelsea knew that. She turned to him a few times, eyebrows raised, and she would stick out her tongue knowingly.

The makeup ladies had also sprayed her dark hair a thousand times, making certain that not a single hair was going to stray. Her pretty curls stayed in place. The only thing he was admittedly bothered by was that Dean had pointed out that she'd kept the teal dye at the ends of her hair. It was clear that she hadn't moved on yet. But even still, he hoped that he could change that...

Roman wasn't prepared for the final image, though—Chelsea destroying that gorgeous black dress, letting it fall apart in shreds by her own hands. He assumed the camera was staying above her black strapless bra, focusing in on her back tattoo. He was intrigued by the images, and he knew it was some sort of Greek mythology. Of course, he hadn't paid much attention in his philosophy classes. Although the images demonstrated a story he was certain he had heard, he couldn't quite recall the whole thing. But, he hoped, that sometime during their stay in his home, he'd find out more.

A few different cameras took shots around her, showing her grab on to her hair, a look of pain on her face as though she was hearing voices that weren't really there. They got one final look from her, a look that spelled out death, as she peered from beneath her veil of black hair.

And finally, she was recorded her playing with shards of broken glass. It looked as though she was trying to re-assemble a mirror, a delicate red rose off to the side. The image was perfect: She looked like she was finishing a puzzle or sorts, hanging out in her black bra and some sort of spandex shorts. The look on her face now held regret. Like she was trying to rebuild her image.

 _But, wasn't she doing exactly that?  
_

"That's a wrap," said someone, and Roman knew it was time to leave the room before she noticed that he was still watching her. The lone tech woman brought over a robe for Chelsea, a smiled plastered on her face like she'd finished the shooting of an Academy Award-winning movie.

The look on Chelsea's face as the woman approached her looked vile. In fact, Roman stifled a laugh as he turned to leave. As fate would have it, the robe Chelsea was now wound up in was the most horrible shade of baby pink he could ever dream up.

* * *

The drive to Miami with Roman was kind of a long one, but they chattered on like old friends. He needed the distraction to keep his heavy lids from closing, and she could shift topics with ease. Chelsea couldn't believe how easily and naturally she was opening up to Roman. It was almost like he could pull any information out of her if he so desired. She hoped she wasn't just talking to fill silence, but she enjoyed that he listened, offering advice or comment once in awhile.

Chelsea told him about how her mom had gone off the deep end awhile ago, throwing herself into a life with her new husband. The two had gambled away most of her mother's life savings, not knowing when to quit going to casinos and accept their losses. Her brother Toby had gone off to boot camp. Sadly, that was the only proud moment their mother had of Toby. Prior to that, he had barely graduated high school. He couldn't hold a job. He spent more time with his friends on his Xbox than his real-life friends. In the past, Toby was the wild one, always getting into trouble and always causing some. But then Chelsea met Jeff.

She chattered about how she'd trained with Natalie in the dungeon, quickly becoming friends being the only two women in the class. She talked about how the Bella twins had been keeping their distance even though they didn't have any direct problem with her, and about how she'd suspected that the blonde woman was behind their silence. She mentioned that the women's division wasn't looking very hopeful right now, because the people with talent had either terrible gimmicks (Naomi) or were just outright hated (AJ).

She mentioned that she was still hurt that Nat hadn't invited her to the greatest Hart Foundation event of the year: Her wedding.

She said that she'd hoped that the woman that was to take over AJ's title was an excellent champion, and that WWE didn't turn her into some sort of weak, wussy champion like they had with many of the past women. She admitted that she didn't know Paige at all, but that AJ was kind of salty over the exchange despite the NXT champion's deserve of becoming a title holder on the main roster.

After her long-winded chat about the women's roster, Roman had asked her about her tattoo. He said he'd noticed that it was there, but didn't know what it was. And so, she talked about how many hours she'd sat through with her tattoo artist, deciding the perfect placement and imagined what Pandora's box really would have held. She showed him the medical symbol on her wrist, saying she was paying homage to the rap artist, Eminem, because he'd gone through some serious struggles similar to her own. She admitted that the "Recovery" album, though it's reviews were average, had really helped her through some tough things.

She'd learned that Roman's own tattoo was a Samoan tribal band, and that many men in his family had similar fashions.

Then she started telling him that no matter what she did, she still had nightmares about her past. They were only bad memories with gnarly twists, but she'd give anything to have the normal dreams that people talked about. Teeth falling out, falling into the abyss, or being chased. Anything that didn't involve Jeff Hardy would be fine.

"Sometimes when you dream something, it's because your subconscious is still stuck on it," he told her. "Even when you think you've moved forward."

Chelsea picked at her dark purple fingernail polish that she'd only just put on last night. It was obvious that Roman knew that she still thought about Jeff, and saw him in her mind, and felt him every step. He probably also knew that she was dying to just let it all go. _But how?_

"Chelsea, from a friend—there are six, almost seven billion people in this world. Don't let one continue to ruin your life."

She looked at him, trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. For lack of a better metaphor, he'd read her like an open book.

He jerked the wheel, merging onto a highway. "We're only about an hour away now," he commented, catching her eye. The subject changed so abruptly that she wasn't sure what he was talking about for a split second. Almost as if he never said the previous comment at all.

She slid her sunglasses down from her head, the sunlight starting to annoy her eyes.

"He's not still ruining my life," she stated, trying to sound convincing. "He's not even in my life anymore." There was no point in hiding what her nightmares revolved around. It was pretty clear that Roman knew. Dammit, he _knew._

Roman was grinning, almost cockily. "He's still a part of it," he shot back, though the tone was soft. His eyes stayed on the road, flickering between the windshield and his rearview mirror from time to time.

"But you want him to be. You've kept the ends of your hair teal, just like his," Chelsea wondered how he'd thought of that.

Chelsea laughed. "So because I dyed my hair to match his once upon a time, I want him in my life? Who would have known that Superman is actually the Incredible Hulk. Green with envy, with a small brain and a lot of muscle."

Roman dug an elbow into Chelsea's side, trying hard not to laugh and keeping his eye on the road.

"Why don't you change it, then?" Roman asked, hoping that she'd agree to change her hair color. That would prove that she was trying to move past Jeff Hardy and everything else that she was stuck on.

"I will!"

* * *

The next major exit, he turned off the highway, finding a drugstore on the main turnoff.

"Pick a color, any color," he said. "Not teal, or any form of teal. I'll be waiting."

He wondered if he was being harsh on Chelsea. But through the whole time they'd talked, he had to admit that she was a lot deeper of a person than he'd ever met. The woman wasn't one-dimensional. With women like Marissa or Summer Rae, what you saw was what you got. Nothing special.

It was, however, high time that Chelsea chopped her damn binds. He'd always heard Naomi say "New hair, new life!" and maybe it'd work for Chelsea, too. At least when she looked at herself in the mirror, she wouldn't think of Jeff in the back of her mind. He was surprised that Dean was completely right about why she kept it the way she did, and he wondered how Dean could have possibly known that.

Chelsea emerged from the building, a plastic bag in hand.

She sat down, clearly a little embarrassed.

"Well?" he said, prompting her to open the bag.

She pulled out a box of the _Splat!_ brand that Eva Marie was notorious for using between salon visits.. But instead of the flaming red color Eva used, Chelsea held a deep, burgundy color in her hand.

"The lady at the beauty counter said it would cover the teal," she mumbled. "Without destroying my hair with a load of bleach."

Roman side-hugged Chelsea, proud that she'd stuck to her word. She looked up at him, still in his awkward embrace. He was so close, all he had to do was bend down, and his lips would find hers…

She cleared her throat, pulling away. "So about that 2k14 rematch," she changed the subject, avoiding the fact that they just had a pretty intense moment. She wasn't quite ready to delve into anything deeper with Roman. After all, they'd barely gotten to know each other. While he was damn sexy, she really didn't want to get hurt. She also didn't want Roman to go blabbing to the whole locker room about Chelsea Sweetly being an easy target. She was trying to fix her image. She wanted to believe that Roman was different. But there was always the possibility that he was exactly the same as the rest.

He shifted the car into gear. "You can't beat me. Not this time. I was just going easy on you because I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

* * *

 _Alright, what the hell had happened in the parking lot?_ She couldn't get that off from her mind.

Chelsea was pretty sure that Roman was about to kiss her. After he called her out on her hair, she was done for. She always thought that nobody knew the real reason she'd spent so much time trying to keep it from fading to Jeff's favorite teal to a greenish yellow.

But, you shouldn't miss people who don't miss you, right? Jeff had made it clear that he wasn't interested in anything further with her. All the times he was silent after she declared her love. All the time she spent wishing to be with him in his bed when she knew he was with Beth. All of the physical pain he'd put her through. Shit, all of the _emotional_ pain he'd put her through!

She was starting to get choked up in regret. She closed her eyes, hoping to pull up a good memory as she drifted off to sleep...

 _"Chelsea," she heard Jeff whisper, and she moved, letting him lay next to her._

 _"I've missed you," she mumbled sleepily, an empty bottle of Jack next to her._

 _"I know." They stayed like that for a moment, and he pulled her face towards his, his kisses intoxicating. She began peeling her black t-shirt off, her breasts bouncing with release. Jeff breathed into her neck, and she felt his member thick through his basketball shorts. He smoothed her hair, pushing his body on to hers..._

 _"I can't stay for long. I'm not supposed to be here," he murmured, his lips still caught on hers._

 _"You're only suspended," she spoke back. She hadn't expected him to turn up at all tonight, even though she'd been texting him in hopes that he would._

 _"For now. What happens if I can't be here anymore?" he asked, pulling away. His eyes shown in the darkness like stars._

 _Chelsea pulled herself up, her naked body chilled. She could feel her tears coming, her voice caught in her throat. She hadn't given thought to more action regarding Jeff's current suspension because it didn't seem like an issue. But what if he was fully expelled from the WWE? She'd be alone, without the only person who cared about her._

 _"We could make it work, Jeff," she mumbled, even though she knew better._

 _"No...this wouldn't work anymore," he said finally. "I mean..._ we _couldn't work anymore."_

Chelsea woke up in a second, throwing that memory back into the pile of crap it crawled out of. Who was she kidding? With Jeff, there was no 'good' memory. Besides, she could pull them out whenever she wanted, but the fact was, Jeff wasn't coming back for her.

She looked at Roman, who was concentrating on his driving. He looked back at her and smiled, asking her if she had a nice nap. She looked down at the clock. She'd been out for only about twenty minutes, but it was enough to feel slightly refreshed.

Both were silent for a moment, and Chelsea fought the urge to pull out her iPod and blow her eardrums out. The ride had become very weird, and the air became almost stiff in Roman's car. Thoughts of Jeff danced in her head. She shifted, pulling her feet up on the seat like a little kid might do, holding her ankles.

Roman must've read her mind, because he flipped on the radio. He toggled the switch for a moment, and settled on something. It had a fantastic guitar riff, then slowed. The melody and female vocalist was haunting, similar to the late, great likes of Cher.

 _No matter what you say or what you do,_

 _I know how this will end._

 _So I'm turning away now, before we begin._

 _I'm dangerous for you, dangerous for you._

Roman reached for the radio again, but Chelsea knocked away his hand. The song had been purely coincidental, but she had to know who and what it was—it was describing how she was thinking perfectly. She had to know how this song ended, because she couldn't help but wonder if that's how _this_ , whatever _this_ was, would end, too.

 _I'm dangerous, I'm dangerous for you,_

 _My promise is, I will hurt you._

Well, that didn't sound too promising. Chelsea was fully aware that she was running from Roman. The guy who had her back, and so far, hadn't judged her negatively for her past behavior. Except, she guessed, the part where Jeff still controlled it. Like a puppet master of sorts. Regardless, she wanted to let Roman get close to her, but she couldn't help but feel like she was going to hurt. She knew it was time to let go of the memory of Jeff Hardy, who she considered to be her first true love.

 _What if that wasn't love at all?_

It was a huge risk here. The chances of getting her heart broken again were extremely high. Yet, Roman's words still hung in her head, urging her not to keep letting one single person ruin her life. Maybe she should let Jeff go...besides, the truth was, there wasn't much left to hold on to. She knew she had some kind of feelings for the Samoan, and so she decided, in that moment, she could never explore them further if she was hung up on Jeff fuckin' Hardy.

Taking a deep breath, she switched off the radio, and slipped her hand onto Roman's, which was resting on the drive shaft. She wiggled her fingers into his large hands, and he turned towards her, his face knit together in question.

"If you want to get to know me…if you want to learn more….I think I'm willing to talk," she said, her thoughts just as jumbled as her words. "But it's not pretty. My life, my past..we've barely scratched the surface. As much as I wish it were...none of it is perfect."

He looked at her for a long moment, then turned back to the empty highway. The words hung in the air, and all Chelsea could think was that perhaps she'd read him totally wrong. He was going to shoot her down, too. Take the rug right out from under her feet, and break whatever was left of the heart she had.

"I didn't expect it to be. Besides, perfect isn't real," he said finally, his eyes searching hers. Somehow, he was able to maintain control of the car despite the intense moment they shared. They sure seemed to be full of them tonight.

Chelsea breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and he squeezed her hand with his. She had given Roman the go-ahead, the green light. She was finally willing to talk to him about the bullshit she'd gone through, seen, and felt. That in itself was an accomplishment. In time, Roman hoped they could pursue an actual relationship. He was so interested in this unique woman that every thought he had pertaining to dating within the company was pretty much out the window. Shit, she could be the one.

 _Ah, well. One step at a time._

Or in this case, one giant leap.


	11. Chapter 11

**Yeah, so...if you'd like to read more of my things, I am also writing an OC/Styles story. I'm specifically happy with that one. :)  
**

* * *

"Do you like waffles?"

The odd question from the Samoan man surprised Chelsea, who was busy watching the scenery fly by her window. Her hand was still entwined with his, though it was starting to get the tingles like it was falling asleep. But she didn't care, because she wanted to feel connected to him. Because he made her feel better.

Chelsea couldn't really remember if she'd actually visited the city of Miami, or just spent time in its hotels and airports. Either way, she wasn't prepared for it. For starters, it was beautiful. But the downtown area was full of an insane bustle at almost four in the afternoon. Every street was lined with boutiques, cars, bistros, bars, and a whole slew of nightclubs. She noticed a candy shop with caramel apples and fudge in the window, and her mouth watered. She was, as her ring name implied, easily swayed towards anything sweet.

She also noticed a shop called Selina's, a small store with a gold awning that caught her eye. Making a mental note to stop downtown once more at some point during her visit here, she understood why Roman called this city home. Everywhere you looked was something different, and she couldn't imagine ever getting bored. There was plenty of things to do, and they'd only been on once street so far!

"Waffles are…cool," she responded lamely, but for the odd question, she thought it was a decent answer. She didn't see any waffle houses on the main drag, just a whole lot of sushi bars and a Subway.

"Over here it's a little touristy," he told her, flipping on his turn signal and turning away from the chaos. Chelsea didn't mind the craziness of the downtown area, but she supposed that if she lived here, she wouldn't be nearly as impressed.

He'd gone to a more secluded part of the city, turning into the parking lot of a rickety old restaurant, some kind of Ma and Pa's diner. The outside was decorated with awful flamingos, but the painted wood birds that lined the building were chipped, some of them missing beaks, some of them not even pink anymore, and some without eyes, giving the appearance that they were winking.

The old sign up on the building was in desperate need of a paint job, too, and was named just as tacky as the outside, the words "Old Pink Bird's Waffle House." Not to mention, it was a mouthful and a half.

Once they parked, Roman gave her fingers a tiny squeeze before letting her hand fall. Chelsea wondered how they would explain their newfound fondness for each other once they returned to the real world. Would Dean be pissed? She guessed so.

Roman opened the vehicle's door for her, giving her a chivalrous smile as he held out his free hand to help her out. They entered the restaurant, and he started leading her to a two-person table near the back, the kitchen door to their left.

Of course, the inside was decorate in a similar fashion as the outside, but the cheap plastic flamingos were lurking in every corner, palm tree photographs up against the walls. The waitress, who appeared from behind the kitchen counter, appeared in a hot pink polo shirt, the buttons pulling across her large chest. She made a grumbling sound, causing both Roman and Chelsea to turn her way.

"Aw, hell nah," she said, clapping her hands together at the sight of Roman. "Don't ya dare tell me Romy came up in here without givin' a nod at 'ol Loretta Mae!" she came bounding towards their booth, her thick thighs running into the chairs pushed into the table next to them. "And lookie here, he got himself a girl with him. Sweet Lou, show your ugly mug on out here!"

The woman was a large, aged dark-skinned woman, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun. She had a grandmotherly feel, her warm brown eyes shining at the pair. She looked like a no-bullshit woman, and Chelsea warmed to this woman right away.

An old man in a cook's uniform poked his head out the kitchen door. He was just as old, but extremely tall, age spots sprinkling his cheeks. He wore his black hair tied into a braid, and when he smiled, Chelsea noticed he was missing one of his front four teeth.

Sweet Lou gave a low whistle, saluting them, then turned back into the kitchen.

Loretta Mae ruffled Roman's hair like he was a little kid, a huge smile on her face. "You ain't been 'round here lately," she motioned towards the front door. "Been keepin' busy, I see," she said, turning to Chelsea. "I'm Loretta Mae, Romy's nanny," she said inching closer to her, still smiling. "Er at least, I was. This boy sure did keep me on my toes, backn' the day." Chelsea introduced herself, finding herself wondering more about Roman's childhood.

"Chelsea," she repeated back, showing her teeth with a grin. This woman had an infectious smile, and made her miss her own family. Even though she wasn't nearly as close to her own as she'd wished. They each slid into their chairs, Roman needing to duck so he didn't smack his head on the low-hanging light fixture.

"Well, Romy, she is a pretty one," Loretta Mae clapped her hand on the table, headed away. "But a bit skinny. You'd break her in half," she muttered, wagging her finger at Roman. "No matter. I'll bring ya the usual," she clicked her tongue. She began walking away before turning her head over her shoulder. "Ya'll keep yo hands to yo selves."

Chelsea shook her head, trying not to laugh as her hand found Roman's knee under the table. He winked at her, and she felt like a teenager again. Butterflies and all.

"You're not allergic to nuts, right?" he asked, suddenly worried, and she shook her head no.

"Ginger," she replied. "Cookies, ginger ale…"

"Redheads?" Roman guessed, keeping his face straight. Chelsea bit her lip so she didn't laugh, but smacked him from across the table when he finally raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Shut up," she laughed, and Loretta Mae came back from the back, holding a pot of black coffee and two old-fashioned, peachy-pink cups.

"Romy, when ya get a chance, tell that mamma 'a yours that she needs to pick up that dang phone! I gotta give that scoop on Old Man Harold!" Roman promised he would, telling the waitress that his mom was having troubles with her landline, but that he'd get a hold of her as soon as possible and drop a hint at calling her oldest friend. Chelsea listened in on the conversation quietly, wondering where Loretta Mae came from. She spoke in a heavy dialect, so she couldn't have been from Florida. She would've guessed somewhere in the south.

They chatted a little bit longer, Chelsea scooping a spoon of sugar into her coffee. She felt that maybe the fact that Roman had brought her here meant something special. Like maybe she was something special, and this could actually go forward into an actual relationship. After all, Loretta Mae was pretty much his family. She couldn't see Roman being the type that just brought random girls around, and if he was, she didn't think the old woman would have been surprised to see a woman opposite the boy she'd spent so much time with in his youth.

The pair chattered over waffles, with little interruption. They were excellent, with pecans, whole wheat, and powdered sugar. They'd put slices of pineapple on the tops. They were unlike any kind of waffle Chelsea had ever known, but they were amazing. Roman swore up and down that the recipe was Sweet Lou's own creation, and that he didn't know what made them so damn good. Chelsea didn't believe him for a second, but gave up trying to guess any secret ingredients.

After they'd finished, Roman had asked for the bill, but the nanny laughed. He shook his head, throwing a wad of cash on the table, giving the old woman a hug as he left.

"Romy, I like that one. Much nicer than that rat ya went and brought here last time. Be good to her, ya hear?"

Chelsea said goodbye to Loretta Mae, who pulled her in for a hug. "Don't go 'an break by boy's heart now," she said in a hushed voice. "I like yeh."

She couldn't help but let her mind wander, curious as to who else he'd brought there were a lot more women than she'd realized. Perhaps she'd read him wrong, and he was just as much a playboy as he appeared to be. He was handsome and brooding, after all; and any woman would be over the moon just to get his attention. Chelsea began to think that perhaps she was a charity case for Roman. Loretta Mae had confirmed her worst fear: She was just gonna be another notch in his bedpost.

 _But that's where the story will end for us_ , she thought sullenly.

* * *

As Roman pulled into the drive of a small house a few miles back from the restaurant, the curiosity finally got the best of Chelsea.

"So who else has met your nanny?" she asked, trying not to sound bitter. She tried her hardest not to be jealous, because it wasn't fair. Roman had shown her nothing but compassion so far, and she was trying to take a step forward with him. Why ruin something when it hasn't even started?

"Ah, I don't think you've met her. The only woman I've ever dated and worked with. Good lord, that was a shit relationship, though."

If that was supposed to make Chelsea feel any better, it didn't. It made her feel like this was doomed.

She didn't press for a name, because part of her didn't really want to know. At least, not yet; she figured it was still too early to over-think things, worry about whether she could keep Roman interested, and mentally compare herself to his previous girlfriends. Right now, she wanted to get to know Roman and only Roman...because otherwise, she was certain she'd get scared and run from what might be something good.

Besides, nothing that happened in the WWE ever stayed a secret for very long.

"What happened?" she asked, but she regretted it immediately. She wasn't sure she'd like his answer. Romantically, she didn't know a thing about Roman, but if he was anything like Dean, the ending wasn't a nice one.

He opened his car door, stepping on to the gravel of the driveway. She started to do the same, but he looked at her with "that look," and she stopped, letting him open the door for her.

"We were just very young, and not ready for the commitment thing. Either of us," he tacked on the last little bit, as if she wouldn't pick up on it. "It wasn't a really big deal. It was a whopping three-month thing, the ink barely dry on our contracts. She was shot straight to the main roster, but I still had a lot to learn. I think that got to her head. And it turned out, she wasn't the kind of person I could picture myself with in the long run."

They walked towards the home and Chelsea's mind was going wild with questions she didn't want to ask. Trying to push away the wonder over whether or not they'd slept together, talked about marriage, talked about living together, if his ex-girlfriend was mean, or sweet...she turned her attention to his house, which looked more like a place that a widow would have inhabited, rather than a rising star in the WWE. But that was why she liked Roman. He was humble, and wasn't big on appearances.

 _That's why I'm standing here with him_ , she thought. She wasn't normally critical of herself, but the ex-talk had gotten brought her mood down significantly.

He opened the door to his home, and the first thing she noticed was a large, black leather sofa. Gray and black artwork littered the walls, and a plush gray carpet sat beneath her toes. The only thing of color was a gorgeous candle sitting on the coffee table, one of the dripping candles that someone had taken a lot of time to carve. It was cherry red, and the obvious focal point of the living room.

"You're looking for someone long-term?" she finally asked, walking further into the living room. She was now questioning his motives. He wasn't very old, and though he was accomplishing a lot right now, he wasn't all the way there yet. "By the way, your house is beautiful."

"I'm not saying I want to run down to the courthouse and marry anyone," he was smiling now, walking towards the kitchen. "But I always thought, 'if it's not going to result in me wanting to spend my life with whoever, then what's the point'?"

She followed him into the kitchen, where he was pouring two glasses of juice. This room was just as nicely decorated, the stainless steel appliances demanding the attention. It looked like it was straight out of a Best Buy advertisement, the only thing that carried any sort of personalization was a save-the-date wedding paper stuck on the gleaming refrigerator.

"My cousin," he followed her gaze, pointing at the save-the-date. She took her glass of juice from his outstretched hand. "I guess their relationship is my inspiration. Until I find the right one, the best thing I can do is focus on climbing higher up the ladder."

He showed her around his home, finishing with the guest bedroom. It was decorated with brown and green, an odd color combination, but it worked. A bamboo plant sat near the window, and the dresser was made of wicker, giving the whole room a relaxing, spa-like feel.

"If you want to go ahead and take a shower, I'll bring your things up," he told her, watching her flop down on the pale brown beadspread. It was supersoft, and she felt like taking a nap just like that.

"Thanks," she looked up at him from her position, letting her hair fan around her face.

"Stay there a second," he replied, snapping a picture with his cell phone.

"Asshole!" she sat up immediately. "I probably have chipmunk cheeks!" She grabbed for the sleek phone, but Roman put it above his head, and she flopped back down, giving a dramatic huff.

He slid his phone into his pocket, a territory Chelsea didn't dare to go.

"You looked fine," he told her. "Now go take a shower, stinky."

* * *

Roman toted Chelsea's duffel bag and his own into the house, her own bag probably double the size of his. For being an anti-diva, she still brought along a shit ton of clothes. He still turned their conversation in his head over and over, like a CD that you had hoped had a hidden meaning in it.

Maybe bringing Chelsea here was a mistake. He knew that Loretta Mae would take to her right away—she liked most people. And Chelsea had that thing about her that was just likable and real. But perhaps it was way too soon in their friendship, relationship, whatever to bring her to his home. Dean would certainly discourage his interest in Chelsea. Seth would probably celebrate it, though.

He threw her bag on her bed, straining his ears to understand the song she was singing, the words very faint from inside the shower. Her voice was smooth, melancholy, and actually quite good. He recognized the tune, but couldn't quite name it. Still, it was enchanting...

 _"When you're too in love to let it go...  
_

 _But if you never try, you'll never know..._

 _Just what you're worth..."_

He closed his eyes, listening. Yeah, he was falling for this woman. Tripping all over, face-first. He was prepared to meet her demons, and help her put them in their cages. The kindest woman, aside from his mother and Loretta Mae, that he'd ever met. Her heart was on her sleeve, and she was spending hours and hours ensuring that she'd righted her wrongs by training and interviewing and fighting off the Natalya brood. He was sure as ever that she deserved to be happy, no matter what she thought.

So, how could he help her?

He wandered into his own room, falling into the blue La-z-boy chair that he had pushed opposite of his bed. Sometimes, he didn't even sleep in his bed; his grandpa's old chair was worn in just the right way that when it reclined, he couldn't even tell the difference between that and a mattress. And sometimes, he could even catch a whiff of his grandpa's aftershave. Of all the items his Gramps had left behind, this was all he'd wanted to keep. He remembered watching some old Hulk Hogan, Jake the Snake, and even Bret Hart matches with him on the very same chair, the pioneers who all encouraged him to follow his dream.

He sure did miss Gramps.

He turned to his bed, the silvery blue sheen catching his eye. There was a lot more space in his bed than his chair, though. Roman shook his head, knowing he had to force thoughts of snuggling up to the woman in his house out of his head. The way she'd grabbed his hand in the car still warmed him. She was so unsure of herself, of what she really wanted. She was nervous, and she seemed so innocent. He couldn't be more surprised that she'd opened up to him, saying she was ready to fill him in. Why she held on to someone who used and abused her…and overall left her as a shell.

Still, he hoped he wasn't being too forward. Not to mention the heavy talking about his past relationship or his thoughts on marriage…that in combination with her own sad love story was a whole lot of baggage for two people to carry.

 _Well, she does call me Superman…_

He looked at the picture of Chelsea that he'd snapped just moments before, feeling himself smile for maybe the hundredth time since he'd been with her today. She looked so peaceful, at ease. And they were both happy when they were together, that had to count for something. Early as it was, with a whole lot of the getting-to-know-you crap, he just yearned for just her company.

Because maybe she was just as lonely as he was, unlucky in the personal life and focusing on the life the fans saw. But it's so easy to forget that the life the fans saw wasn't real.

He'd heard the shower shut off, then realized he was still staring at her picture. He quickly turned on his flat-screen TV, tuning in to whatever ESPN show was on. He looked at his alarm, just now realizing that almost a full hour had already passed. What the hell took women so long?

His answer was clear as she came down the stairs, her hair tied in a low ponytail. She wore a gray t-shirt and black skinny jeans, was barefoot, and had her eyes blacked behind thick-rimmed glasses. Normal as she was going to get, and that was fine. Except…

"Hey, your hair is red!" Roman couldn't hide the happiness in his voice, her hair now the same inky black, but with dark, blood-red tips. No more teal. Something about it gave a more grown-up appearance. And maybe it was his primal instincts calling, but the combination of red and black was sultry, sexy, and irresistible.

"It is," she said back, flipping her hair over a shoulder and admiring her work. "I wish I'd done it sooner. This is an awesome color," she flung her arms around Roman's neck, giving him a real hug. He inhaled her scent, a faint cinnamon sugar smell clinging to her skin.

"Thank you," she said into his chest. "I really, really needed that."

 _No more waiting, Roman._

"Chelsea," he said to her, and she looked up at him, her eyes widening behind the nerdy frames as though she could read his mind. Her mouth turned upwards.

He bent down to her lips, feeling the softness of her skin pressed on his own. He looped a hand around her neck, pulling her in deeper. At first, he sensed a little resistance, but he took his free hand and put it on the small of her back, almost as if to hold her. Electricity buzzed between their bodies, and Roman's heart beat faster.

The two took a breath when they broke apart, and Chelsea bit her lip. He kept his hands on her, loving the way her soft skin felt, and wishing he could stop time. They kept their heads together, and Roman snuck a quick kiss on her lips to finish it off. For now.

"Thank you," he told her, his voice gravelly. "I really, really needed that," he repeated her words back at her, resting his thumb on her cheek.


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, so for some dumb reason, when I'm trying to do the "at" symbol, FF won't let me. So for Twitter, the "at" symbol has been replaced by a /. So sorry.  
**

 **You should leave a review, also. It makes me happy. :)**

* * *

Chelsea couldn't get comfortable. No matter what position she was lying in, her mind was racing a thousand miles per minute. All she could think about was Roman, and how she wished she could be with him, even though he was only straight across the hall. She fleetingly considered sneaking into his bed. In fact, the idea of sleeping in his arms was both appealing and exciting. But she knew better. If ever they would have a chance at something real, she needed to keep the pace slow.

And with that, she began to overthink everything. Who needed sleep, anyways?

Chelsea idly thought once again about Roman, wondering what exactly he wanted from her. After all, the way her relationshit—er, ship, went with Jeff, they'd slept together drunkenly within a month.

Chelsea still kind of regretted that. No, that wasn't true. She _really_ regretted that.

Chelsea wished she could erase Jeff Hardy completely. The ghost of his touch still haunted her. As a matter of fact, if she could change anything about their relationship, it would be that she never would have slept with him.

Jeff had such a huge piece of her now, and he hadn't respected her one bit. He'd thrown her to the side like old garbage, despite obtaining something valuable.

Because of that, Chelsea was afraid she wouldn't feel the same with anyone else. Though, Jeff had always told her she was psychotic. But now, she realized, that her so-called "psychotic" tendencies was just a reaction to a truly abnormal amount of bullshit. She still hated that she was Jeff's side chick. She hated even more that she allowed herself to become that. Karma was a bitch, though, and one day it'd come bite him in the ass.

Or at least, she sure hoped it would.

Jeff used to always mock Chelsea, telling her that she would never make it in the WWE or life without him guiding her. Then again, his head was a real mess back then. Shit, _her_ head was a mess back then. So she believed him, keeping at his heels.

But now, her head wasn't all messed up from Jeff Hardy's lies. No, hers was clear as a summer sky. Right now, she was focused.

And even though she'd never expected to fall for someone again as hard as she'd fallen for Jeff Hardy, she was. And it was frightening.

Now, she was tossing and turning, trying to make sense of their relationship. Could she really handle being with another person she worked with? She wasn't sure.

Earlier, Roman and Chelsea had watched some awful horror movie on Netflix together after the awkward, beautiful moment they shared. They'd snuggled on the love seat, his arm snaked around her like she was his girl. She had gotten too comfortable, and began to doze off. Even though they were molded together on the tiny seating arrangement, they made it work.

After the movie, they made dinner together. Since they'd had waffles mid-afternoon, they ended up grilling some chicken breast. Chelsea sizzled it in some balsamic dressing and cut up some roma tomatoes, rolling them in parmesan and oregano. The end product was phenomenal; a light but delicious meal. Roman had commented several times how much he appreciated a woman who knew how to work a kitchen. Chelsea didn't mention that she'd been making her own meals herself for years. That admission would spark a dreadful conversation; she was sure of that. So, she didn't say anything.

Additionally, the whole time they'd flirted like kids, getting into some kind of a rhythm as they'd cooked. She wondered briefly if things would be that easy between them all the time, and especially if they'd ever decided to move in together.

But it was _way_ too early to think about that nonsense.

Now, it was nearly six hours later. Hoping she could tire her eyes out a little by reading, Chelsea tried to relax by reading some more of _Divergent._ But, as the main character Tris's love story progressed, Chelsea kept considering her own. She couldn't focus on the words in front of her.

Finally, she gave up, and got up to turn on the fancy flat-screen TV in her guest room. She hoped that maybe she'd get lucky and something besides infomercials would be on. It was already midnight, though, and even though Roman had a million channels, nothing interested her.

Three thousand channels later, she bumped into something she hadn't watched, but wanted to…if only even slightly, and not that she'd ever admit it.

 _Total Divas_ was having a marathon on the E! network.

So she began watching. And she couldn't stop. What was she up against here?

Summer Rae was just as much a bitch in person as on the show. Yeah, she had heard there were lots of scripts that the show followed. But from the blonde bitch she knew and worked with, the show-version of Summer Rae was just the same. Chelsea thought for sure she was the only one that loathed Summer, but from the short snippets of interviews with the other women on the show, she was proven wrong. Summer wasn't particularly liked in the locker room by anyone.

She cried when the show aired the marriage of Natalie and Ty, something she would have given her left arm to see in person. Chelsea couldn't help but feel heartbroken all over again as her ex-friend vowed to love the man she'd been with for-freaking-ever.

Maybe it was because it was so damn late and she was over-tired. But the whole episode was truly breathtaking. Chelsea could only hope she would get as lucky in love as any of the women, actually. They were all so happy. Naomi and her soon-to-be husband were laugh-out-loud hilarious together. Brie and Daniel Bryan were so cutesy it was sickening. The only exception seemed to be John Cena, who was kind of a douche. She really didn't understand what Nikki Bella saw in him, especially because he seemed arrogant. Then again, it was John Cena; he had every right in the world to be stuck-up.

From what she knew, he'd gotten into some serious shit with his ex-wife a long time ago. It wasn't much a surprise that he kept himself guarded after that. Chelsea suspected that the former champ had lost a lot of money in that divorce.

But, the more she watched, the more she realized she was going to have a tough ride. Her character was supposed to be everything the reality show wasn't. But exactly how do you attack someone who is on top of the world? How could she continue being an anti-diva when the Total Divas were clearly doing so well for themselves? The fans would never be able to get behind her. Maybe AJ had an idea here?

Chelsea contemplated telling Stephanie that she wasn't sure this was the right direction for Chelsea Sweetly's character. Maybe she could still feud with Natalie, since that had already been a clear indication towards the fans that the two women despised each other. But pitting her against all of them? That looked like an uphill battle. Chelsea worried her character would fall flat quickly.

But then she saw it, right in the middle of an episode. A short conversation between Naomi and Natalie, barely even noticeable. But it was there:

" _Did ya'll have to take a drug test today?" Naomi had asked Natalie, her tag partner, Cameron, sitting nearby._

" _Nah, not me," the mocha-skinned woman answered. Natalie shook her head, too._

" _What the…really? Just me?"_

 _Natalie snorted. "Didn't you guys hear? The reason they enforced the random drug test rule just signed back onto the roster. Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll get tested right away. I wouldn't be mad if she disappeared again."_

Even though her former friend didn't name any names, anyone who knew anything about the Divas division knew that it was a direct insult towards Chelsea. Nat had said it so quietly that the camera had barely caught the audible, but there it was, plain as day.

While neither of the other women responded the way Natalie had probably hoped, it was a new game now. Neither had bothered to say a word to Nat. Neither had told Natalya to quit being a bully, even though both Cameron and Naomi were likely to know who the snide remark was made towards. Chelsea couldn't help but be annoyed that neither of the Funkadactyls were able to stand up for her. Then again, Chelsea supposed, she didn't really know either of them. Besides, the only person that she had a real problem with was smiling her perfect smile on the flatscreen.

If Stephanie McMahon wanted her to stand up against the Total Divas, she was gonna do it. Chelsea was ready for an all-out battle.

Her adrenaline was pumping like crazy now, and sleep wasn't in her future anymore. Seriously, what the hell was Nat's problem with her? She guessed that it had something to do with her old habits. But wouldn't a real friend try to help her, later congratulating her for being clean and sober? Instead, Nat had done nothing for Chelsea. Rather than support her, she ended up just attacking her, making quiet comments to anyone who was listening. Most recently, Nat was busy humiliating her during Smackdown's tapings. This was getting out of hand, and Chelsea knew it wasn't a wonderfully written storyline by the creative team. Mostly because there's no way they could come up with something that good.

Not to mention, they would have never approved Natalie lashing out. That awful interview they'd had together was humiliating. Even with editing out the scene, enough people had seen it live. It would live on the internet forever.

But now it was her turn. It was time the world heard her side of the story. She didn't have the platform that Nat did, but she did have her social media account. Turning her phone on, she logged on to her WWE authenticated Twitter account for the first time in…what, six months? A year?

She went into hiding after being sent away, embarrassed to have let down her friends, family, career, herself, and especially her fans. She wondered if she really even had any fans left.

Chelsea had a disgusting amount of notifications upon login. Admittedly, she had never really responded to them before. Not to mention, she didn't really care. A bunch were probably hate messages, and she was in no position to read those. Jeff had always told her she was over-sensitive, and she probably was. But people were assholes when they could hide behind their screens.

 **/TotalDivas /NatByNature: How does this show have any watchers? Should be called Nat whines when things don't go her way. #SweetFace**

 **/WWEChelseaSweetly /WWE /TotalDivas: Love it or hate it, I'm BACK to take on the ones who think they're "on top of the world"…#SweetFace #MondayNightRaw**

That was good enough. She found AJ's account (after sorting through a load of fakes), Tamina's account, Seth's, and even Roman's. She never really understood the point of Twitter, it just seemed like an easy way to start drama. But the WWE was thriving on it, so she did have one, despite the stupidity. They used it for storylines to seem more real, and for fans to better connect with their favorite stars.

Right now, she found it useful in that respect. She would take her character and run with it. Chelsea figured it would be like adding a little fuel to the fire, making her rivalries more believable and gain support from fans and management alike.

She tweeted Summer Rae, telling her to make sure her fake hair matched her real hair.

She'd tweeted Eva Marie, asking why she let Natalya steal her shine. Was she just unsure of herself in this business?

She tweeted JoJo, telling her to get a personality.

She didn't, however, tweet Naomi or Cameron because she had no real reason to attack them. Sure, neither had said a thing to Natalya when she'd been vocal in that last episode Chelsea had watched. But Chelsea wanted to maintain peace. Especially if she was going to date Roman, if that's where this was headed. She understood how important family was to Roman, so she knew to tread carefully.

Taking a deep breath, she suddenly realized she was exhausted. Putting her phone down and relaxing into the overstuffed pillow, Chelsea finally willed herself to sleep.

Sweet dreams.

* * *

Roman woke up to the annoying buzz of his phone. Groaning, he checked his LCD alarm's time—6 a.m. _Really?_ His alarm wasn't supposed to go off for another hour!

But then he realized it wasn't his alarm going off. Someone was calling him.

Without checking who was calling, Roman groggily answered.

"'Ello?" he managed to choke out, sleep still clouding him.

"Ro? What the fuck you doing?" It was Jimmy.

"I was sleeping, dude. What the fuck are _you_ doing?"

"Calling for a fair warning. Dude, a few of the girls are pissed. Looks like Chelsea re-activated her Twitter account and started attacking the girls from the show."

Roman tried to rack his brain, certain that he had never told Jimmy he was bringing Chelsea to his Miami home. He also had to wrap his head around waking up to the news that Chelsea had managed to create more enemies for herself. Obviously, he knew there was some serious beef between Chelsea and Nattie.

He found it odd that she'd use Twitter as a tool to upset her colleagues, and he felt a surge of disappointment.

But why did Jimmy say _girls_ , plural? Roman didn't think Natalie had great powers of persuasion to turn the other castmates into brainless sheep. She had some sort of authority within that group, though, so that made it plausible.

"She only attacked Nat?" he asked, stretching in his bed.

"Yeah, it seems like it…no wait, looks like Summer, too. And JoJo. And a half-assed insult to Eva Marie," Jimmy confirmed.

"Then I guess I don't really see the problem. Chels is a big girl, and she can pick fights and finish them as she pleases. I don't control her. She obviously didn't go after your girl because she doesn't have a problem with her," he tried to sound convincing and supportive. He also hoped that Jimmy could talk to Naomi a little. Maybe she could buff out some of the hate from the other women from the cast.

"But dude, I'm telling you, you gotta be wary of your girl, too!" Jimmy's voice was raised, but still somewhat hushed. Roman wondered if Naomi was still sleeping, and he figured she probably was. "I don't know what she did to Nat, but whatever it is, it's making Nat lose her shit. I don't think Naomi or Cam care, and I'll talk to them, but Summer and Nat are like, _talking_. That's not good, bro."

How the hell did Jimmy know he had any interest in Chelsea at all? But he already knew the answer…Seth. Seth had a big mouth and probably ran it to his cousin the previous day. However, Roman wasn't ready for any rumors to circulate of them dating backstage quite yet. Were they even dating? He didn't think so. Not yet, anyways. But back to the main point. It was a well-known fact that Summer Rae and Natalie despised each other, and if they were bonding over hating Chelsea, then there might be a problem.

"I'll talk to Chelsea. And a real question for ya, Cuz?"

"Yep?"

"Did Seth tell you I was with Chelsea?"

"Yep."

"I'm going to kill him. But please keep it quiet. We're barely getting to know each other. I really like her, but she's cautious."

Jimmy agreed. "Just be careful, Ro. You know who she used to kick it with."

The two men hung up, one of the longest conversations they'd had on the phone in a long while. The last conversation of this length was when Jimmy had told him he planned on marrying Naomi. He vaguely remembered the conversation as a whole, but remembered that he had been slightly envious that Jimmy was so sure he'd met his soul mate. Roman had just ended things with Alicia Fox for good, knowing that they were completely incompatible and on totally different levels as far as their careers went.

Sometimes he still thought about Alicia. He saw her backstage from time to time, though she didn't wrestle regularly. He'd wondered how she was doing, and even though seeing her around after the split was tough at first, eventually he just didn't care anymore. They'd ended for a reason, and his Gramps always told him not to constantly re-read a book when you already know how it ends. Besides, Roman had heard that she had started dating former Nexus leader Wade Barrett, to which he could only shake his head and wish the guy luck. That woman was a damn hurricane.

But, on the other hand, Chelsea was a hurricane, too. Only difference was, he had never been so captivated by a woman before. She had something special about her, and was just…different than any woman he'd ever met. Alicia had always acted like the world owed her something. She played as if her life was so terribly rough, even though she was brought up with both parents, good money, good looks, and a career that took off when she was only fifteen. Chelsea was much more laid back. She took full responsibility for anything that happened to her, even though it seemed like her life was a jumbled mess. Still, it was admirable that she owned up to her mistakes, and focused on getting to be a better version of herself every day. Despite Jimmy's little warning, he knew that Chelsea was and could be much more than anyone thought.

She was a keeper, and he knew that. He just _knew._

Roman decided to start moving now, getting up slowly as to not strain his already damaged shoulder. It had been getting progressively worse, and it was beginning to make him nervous. He couldn't afford to be sidelined with an injury, and especially not right now. Not when him and his guys were getting a huge push, with an eventual turn to be faces coming up. Roman hadn't been sure where their stories were going, always a hint of a break-up between the trio embedded in the shows every week. But they never did. In the meantime, he would put his full faith in the creative team.

He walked past Chelsea's room, poked his head in, and saw that she was on her stomach, fast asleep. Her phone, a dog-eared book, and her nerdy glasses were beside her, and her TV was still on.

 _Total Divas_ was paused. He cursed himself for thinking she'd have no interest in seeing it, but of course she did. She knew she was up against some huge players, and after he'd stupidly mentioned Natalie's wedding was featured on the show, he should've known she'd want to see it. Judging by the crumpled, blackened tissue she was still holding on to, she had cried.

It was no wonder she'd lashed out on Twitter...surely, something from the show had gotten her where it hurt. Regardless, publicly attacking the E! stars was opening a whole new can of worms, and she had to be careful. There were tons of people who idolized the featured women, and seeing someone take shots at them might spell trouble.

He also considered how it might help evolve her character, which he worried about. She was seemingly a one-woman revolution against the reality stars, and he wasn't sure if she stood a chance in the long run. How long before the fans decided they would prefer seeing Nikki and Brie Bella go shopping? Fans were weird.

Although he wanted to spend time with Chelsea, Roman let her sleep, turning off the television. He'd decided to go for a run; maybe that would clear his head a little bit. He really wanted to do something fun with Chelsea today before hitting the road some time tomorrow, perhaps solidify where their relationship stood. For all he knew, he'd scared her off yesterday. They had totally avoided the fact that they had this time-stopping, earth-shattering kiss.

It was like it didn't happen at all.

* * *

Chelsea woke up, amazed to see she was wide awake despite having gone to bed about four hours ago. At first, she was feeling relaxed, but then…ugh, she thought of Natalie and her stupid face. She didn't bother checking Twitter, even though the icon showed she had new notifications. Like, 128 of them.

Instead, she shot a quick text to AJ, wishing her well and hoping to see her Sunday night. Although she enjoyed spending time with Roman, she couldn't help but wish she had a little more girl-time in her life. Though she never got along as well with women, her friendship with AJ seemed to be exactly what she'd always wished she had. Simple, fun, and drama-free. Chelsea didn't expect an answer from her since AJ was probably enjoying her time with her brooding beau.

Speaking of, she wondered if Roman was still sleeping. Checking herself in the mirror, she poked her head into Roman's room and was sadly disappointed. He wasn't in there, and his bed was made already. She walked in anyways, looking at the assortment of photographs he had lined on his dresser. There were lots of him and his cousins, and she noticed another that looked like him and his mom. She saw Loretta Mae and Sweet Lou standing outside of that awful diner, though in this picture, everything looked fresh and new; Loretta still clad in the same pink polo.

She also saw Roman with an older guy, who she assumed was his grandpa. He was in a wheelchair, a huge "80th" birthday cake laying across his lap, and a younger Roman smiling next to him, giving a thumbs-up.

There was the Shield, acting goofy at some restaurant. Dean had his tongue poking out, Seth had given himself a pig nose, and Roman had his ears pulled out like a monkey. Stifling a giggle, she was happy to notice that there were no photos of whoever his ex-girlfriend was.

She went to see if Roman was downstairs, and he wasn't. She figured he'd gone out to the store, but his car was in the drive yet. He was probably maintaining his physique, in that case. Going for a run or something.

She should, too. Dean would probably kick her ass if he knew she'd skipped a day. But…she had a better idea. And it totally counted as a cardio workout. Besides, she deserved to get out for a little while. Relax a little before Natalie decided to deem Chelsea a social leper, or damn her to her own personal hell. Or both.

She quickly pulled herself together, doing her makeup for the day, curling her hair, and spritzing herself with her normal cinnamon-scented perfume. She tugged on a pair of jean shorts, a navy blue tank top, and a black cropped hoodie. as casual as ever. Whatever. She wasn't wearing Chanel like Nat often sported, but she was presentable. If anyone snapped a picture of her roaming the streets, at least she didn't look disgusting.

She pulled out a marker that she used to use to sign autographs with from the deepest part of her duffel, amazed she even had it in there yet. She hoped that soon she'd be able to use it again and possibly begin some sort of fan base. She scribbled a quick note to Roman, grabbed her sling purse and walked out to the porch, glad to see the sunny Florida sky.

With a deep breath, she walked back towards the main street they'd came from the day before.

* * *

Roman came back in, dripping with sweat. He had to admit, though, he felt a thousand times better. His mind was clear, and he was looking forward to seeing Chelsea again. He checked his phone—it was only ten. He'd gone for his run, stopping at one of the parks nearby and did some core workouts, too. It was beautiful outside—he hadn't had the capability of working out anywhere besides a gym in quite awhile. There was something peaceful about being outdoors, with the wind blowing on his hot flesh, the trees whistling, the sun beaming through the palm trees. He really had missed being home.

Roman also re-confirmed that he wasn't disappointed in Chelsea anymore. He'd found a clip of the episode she'd paused on his phone, eventually finding out what was said that bothered her. It wasn't the wedding like he'd initially thought. No, he'd heard Nattie say some sideways thing about a drug test. Even if he couldn't do anything about what she'd said on the show, he could at least make sure she hadn't unveiled an entirely new level of hatred from the other women.

Roman wanted Chelsea to trust him, and it was his responsibility to protect her from getting hurt. She'd had enough hurt in her life already, anyways.

But when he checked to see if his girl was up, she wasn't in her room. He felt a lump in his throat. She'd scribbled a note and left it on her perfectly made-up bed, her girly scrawl in black Sharpie.

 _ **Ro-**_

 _ **Later.**_

 _ **XoXo,**_

 _ **CS.**_

The words burned his eyes, and he started getting nervous. He knew he'd scare her off with all that couple-y stuff they'd done together. She probably wasn't ready for it…after all, they hadn't known each other for a very long time. Perhaps he had misinterpreted what she'd wanted after all, and she hightailed to the nearest hotel while he was gone. He grew frustrated, his own heart heavy. How could he be so stupid? A girl with that much damage needed to be eased into a relationship. Even though he thought he was going a steady pace with her, he was clearly wrong.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that her duffel was still tucked away under her bed, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank goodness she hadn't run from him! He wanted to kick himself now. At least she felt the same way he did, then. He had to force himself to stop believing that she'd run at any given minute, because if he thought that, he'd end up pushing her too far himself. He didn't want to ruin the start of something amazing by negativity.

But, just the word 'later'? What did that even mean? Not entirely descriptive. He'd hoped she wasn't out long, wherever she decided to wander to. He supposed she didn't want to be found, and would come back when she felt like it. After all, since finding of those dumb episodes on the TV last night, she was likely in a horrible mood and wanted to go about in her own way. Roman had no choice but to respect that, but wished she would come to him when she was feeling down. Maybe that wasn't her thing...she wasn't one to search for attention, even if he was willing to give it to her.

Roman sighed, making his way to the shower.

* * *

Chelsea came back around noon, carrying a total of six shopping bags. She found Roman in the living room, watching basketball. She gave him a big smile, trying not to keep her eyes locked on the gray t-shirt that seemed to cling to his chest muscles.

 _Holy shit._

"Hey, you," he said, motioning for her to sit next to him. "I was wondering if I'd ever see you again."

Chelsea laughed, letting all her bags fall next to the couch. She curled up next to him, letting him put his arm around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head, which made her giggle.

"I didn't go far. I just saw a shop that I really wanted to check out when we drove in, so I walked down there. I figured that Dean would be mad if I skipped a day of training, so I did it my own way."

Roman quirked an eyebrow at her, shaking his head. "How in the world is shopping considered a workout routine?"

She gave him that sweet little smile of hers, then said, "Well, I walked a bunch. Had to avoid other shoppers, carried around heavy bags, had to try stuff on…"

Roman rolled his eyes. "I don't think Dean would approve of that. But just in case he asks, I had you do some conditioning while you were here. So, what'd you get?" he asked, knowing that girls loved to show off purchases. He never really understood that.

"Way too much," she admitted. She proceeded to lay out a black and gray maxi skirt, new earrings, new silver bangle bracelets, a cool black cut-out t-shirt, some dark gray armwarmers, a handful of colored tanks, a really cool sweater that was tied together at the shoulders, and some tall, black leather boots.

Roman grinned at the boots, a small shine in his eye. "I thought you'd never ditch the flippies," he said to her, her black sandals kicked aside as she pulled on the knee-high boots.

"Oh, don't worry, they aren't going anywhere," she said back to him. She looked back up at him, peeking through her eyelashes. "Neither am I," she added quietly, not sure if he could hear.

"And neither am I," he repeated back, letting his lips brush hers. A warm chill shot through his body.

"Would you like to do something together on this beautiful afternoon?" he asked, trying hard not to shudder at their proximity. He took her hand in his.

"I would love to," she said back, squeezing his hand. "But first…" she looked him in the eye, putting a finger to her lips almost seductively. She gave him a look that she hoped was smoldering, as though she wanted to jump his bones right then and there.

"First what?" Roman fidgeted, and Chelsea knew the damage was done. She stroked his strong jawbone with her thumb, getting close enough to kiss him. He started to bend down when she suddenly pulled away, knowing full-well how much of a tease she was being.

"We have a challenge. No wait—a duel!" she clenched her fist, raising it in the air, changing the tone of the whole conversation completely. Roman groaned, laughing as he pulled further away from Chelsea, who still wore her new boots. Though an odd pairing with her outfit, she knew that the knee-high lace boots made her legs look killer, and hoped that might cause a minor distraction.

After all, she had a video game queen reputation to withhold, and she wasn't about to admit to Seth in a few days she let Roman stomp her out of her title.

"Ah, yes, we do," he said back, heading to turn on the PlayStation 3. He handed her a controller. "Game on," he said, setting up WWE 2K14.

"May the best man win," she commented, scrolling through the list of the stars. This time, she chose Dean Ambrose. Roman shook his head, as if he thought it was funny she'd chosen his best friend and her trainer.

In a way, Chelsea wondered if Dean could out-perform Superman on the video game. Dean was all technical, and Ro was all power. In a real duel, what would actually win?

"Of course the best man will win," Roman said smugly.

"You forgot, you lost last time."

"No, I remember. I just think you got lucky."

Chelsea laughed, scrolling through the superstars.

"We'll see about that, Roman Reigns. We'll see."

"Yes, we will, Chelsea Sweetly," he mocked her voice, using an over-enthusiastic falsetto, selecting himself on the video game.

For just a moment, Chelsea closed her eyes, letting herself be happy. For the first time ever, it wasn't Jeff's face she saw in her mind.


	13. Chapter 13

_She didn't recognize this room. It was a guest bedroom._ Why wasn't she in her own bedroom? _She wondered._

 _But when she felt a person shift beside her, she recognized Roman's silhouette in the darkened room. And the panicky feeling she had dissipated, instead comforted by the fact that she was with Roman._

 _The only light she saw was his bare chest gleaming from the little peek of moonlight in the window. He was stroking her stomach, his index finger tracing the crooked little scar. She hated that scar; not only was it disgusting, it would be a reminder of Jeff. She'd always have that stupid scar to count on if ever she wanted to relive personal tragedy._

 _He must've realized she was awake, because his_ _hand began to trail downward. Chelsea squirmed with each centimeter his fingertips touched, anticipation growing in the pit of her stomach. Shit, she wanted this. But she wasn't sure she was ready for it._

" _Roman," she breathed huskily. "Maybe we should wait..." but he wasn't listening. It was like she was invisible. Like she wasn't even there. Ignoring her, he began to rub the inside of her thigh, and she gasped as his fingers found their way underneath the lace of her boyshort panties._

" _Roman…please…" but she had to admit, she longed for him to keep going. She hadn't been romantic with anyone since Jeff had completely destroyed her view on love and relationships. Although sometimes she could see herself getting together with Roman, she felt she needed to stand her ground a little bit. Too much, too soon._

 _But was it really? After all, the sexual tension between them had been apparent the rest of the prior day. Chelsea knew that a lot of it had to do with her almost, kind of, sort of coming on to him before they played a mini-tournament of his video game._

 _They'd managed to go out to dinner, and his jaw twitched when he saw her in her new skirt. Paired with a tight, low-cut black shirt, she was a force to be reckoned with. She felt more confident than ever before, and Roman's wandering eyes told her that all the work she'd done to keep herself in shape and looking healthier had paid off._

 _She'd laughed at his reaction, reminding him that even though she could kick ass at video games and hang with his Shield brothers, she was, indeed, a woman._

 _The dinner was wonderful, very intimate, at one of the bistros downtown. She had an excellent grilled shrimp and spinach salad along with a ciabatta roll. Roman downed almost an entire porthouse steak, baby red potatoes and corn to follow. The décor set the mood between the two, and the whole while, Chelsea knew it was going to lead up to something more. The mood lighting, the candles, the light touching but heavy flirting combination…_

 _She groaned as Roman began to rub her, getting closer and closer to her sensitive folds. She tilted her head back, slightly parting her legs so he could get better access. He brought his face to her face, kissed somewhere near her ear, and buried his head into her hair._

 _He rubbed harder, and she was breathing heavily now, getting anxious for him to introduce a finger to her personal territory._

 _But he didn't stop rubbing, and it began to hurt. Wincing, she tried to knock away his hand, but he grabbed hold of her wrist, slamming it down on to the mattress._

" _Roman, stop!" she cried out, and opened her eyes. Those appalling, haunting green eyes stared back at her, a sinister smile spread on his lips._

" _What's the matter, Chels? Don't you miss me?" Jeff asked her, his hand still holding her down. She tried to kick him off, but he had such a good grasp on her…_

* * *

"Chelsea? Hey!"

She woke up, glancing upward to see Roman's sleepy eyes near the top of her head. She was confused for a moment, scared shitless, and wanted to fling herself into his arms.

Relief washed over her as Roman began to brush her sweaty hair out of her face.

 _It was a dream. It was only a dream._

And leave it to Jeff Hardy's stupid face to pop up in an otherwise fantastic fantasy. Talk about ruining the moment.

"Bad dream," she said groggily, trying to move. She had managed to wrap herself in her bed sheet, making it near impossible to move around. She gingerly began to remove it from her legs, and Roman shook his head with a tiny smile.

"I'd say so. What was it about? Was Natalie trying to turn you into a mummy?" he joked, but Chelsea must've shot him a look because he cast his eyes away almost immediately.

Chelsea smirked, trying to relieve the sudden tension. As she did, she made an attempt at freeing her ankle from the tightly wound sheet. She stood up, her legs still shaking from the fear instilled. She'd never been more grateful that it was Roman who stood before her, not the asshole from the past.

"I wish. It was about you, at first," she told him, leaving her room. It was just after 3 a.m., and she was completely mortified that her night terrors had woken up yet another person. Eventually, nobody would want to sleep in the same place as her, because her loud whimpering and crying would wake up every nearby room.

She made her way to get a glass of water, hoping to break down the dry feeling in her throat. It almost felt as though she swallowed a handful of hay, then chased it with some gravel for good measure. Roman stood behind her as she downed her first glass, then crossed his arms across his chest as she went for the second.

"I hope it wasn't about me. I don't think that's a very good thing if I am the subject matter of your nightmares," he eyed her suspiciously, and she sat at one of the barstools that was pushed into the countertop island.

She sighed, pulling her hair over her eyes. That way, she wouldn't have to look at him as she lied straight to his face. There was a long moment of silence before Roman shifted, and she could tell he was getting frustrated by her, although he'd never say so.

"It was about you, and then you turned into a monster," she said finally, knowing how stupid it sounded. But that was as close as she wanted to get to the truth. She really didn't want to ruin things between them. Things really had gone quite well for them earlier.

Although she'd dreamed up the date with Roman eating ciabatta, that wasn't exactly what happened on their real one. She'd argue that what had happened in real life might even be better.

The silence between them went from uncomfortable to relaxing as she sipped her water. Her mind drifted to what had actually happened the prior night.

Dinner with Roman had been unbelievably pleasant, and afterwards, they'd gone for a long drive, finally making their way to South Beach. They'd walked along the shore, Chelsea picking up a few seashells here and there along the way. She let her feet dig into the wet sand, a gross but oddly liberating feeling. She carried her flip-flops at her side, letting the cool wind blow her hair and skirt. She felt like she was dreaming, because the scene was breathtakingly beautiful. She had turned to Roman to comment on the moon casting a glow on the water, but realized that Roman wasn't looking at the landscape. His eyes were only focused on her.

They'd continued on the walk along the shoreline, and she listened to Roman talk about his family, how much he missed his mom, but how supportive she was of him. She listened to him talk about his Gramps, who he so very much looked up to. He'd told her about some of the traveling he'd done, about how much Dean had changed since they'd first met, and how much he idolized Seth for seeing the good in almost all situations.

It was really nice to hear Roman talk about himself. She'd always thought him to be a silent, serious type. She'd come to find out that he actually was.

He'd commented that he felt like he was only rambling, but Chelsea told him she didn't mind. Roman then bent down and picked up a tiny pearl that an oyster had spit out, pocketing it himself. "I collect things from the beach," he said simply after she'd shot him an inquisitive look.

They'd looked up at the stars, and she'd pointed out to him Cassiopeia and Taurus the bull in the constellations. Amazed by her beauty, simplicity, and knowledge, he'd asked very gentleman-like if he could kiss her.

And kiss her, he did. They stood like that under the stars, exploring each other's mouths, letting their hands roam, and listening to dolphins singing softly in the background. Chelsea really didn't think it could get much better, and wished their mini vacation could last another week. She wasn't mentally prepared to face Natalie or her cronies, and would rather just live on the beach with Roman for the rest of her life.

"Chelsea, I don't want to be too forward, but I really enjoy spending time with you," his eyes shone into hers, and her heart was racing all over again. "I really would love to be with you."

"You are with me," she said quietly, bending her head down and lowering her eyes to her bare feet. He had tilted her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact.

"I mean, really be with you. I want you to be my girl. I don't really care who did what or when. I care about you."

If it were possible for a moment to freeze in time, it had at that very second. Every tear she'd wasted, every hour she'd longed to be loved, every kiss she missed out on, and every "I love you," she never heard…it didn't matter anymore. She'd given up chasing the wrong thing and finally given the right one a chance to catch up to her.

The night had been wonderful, but now, Roman was watching her. He had clear concern on his face after she'd set down her empty glass. She cleared her throat in a terrible and weak attempt to lift the tension that was slowly growing once again between them.

She'd been reminiscing, that whole time. And while she was thinking about the fantastic evening they'd had together, she hadn't realized he'd been waiting for her to expand on the dream.

"And what was that monster's name?" Roman pulled her out of her thoughts as he slid next to her on his own bar stool.

"Didn't have one," she lied, but she already knew that Roman didn't believe that.

He gave her another look, and she sighed. _Busted._

"You turned into Jeff," she admitted.

He nodded, like he had known all along. She was ready for him to say that he didn't think this relationship was going to work after all, that maybe he was too far over his head. She couldn't blame him, because as much as she knew she wanted to be done with Jeff Hardy and all the heartache and turmoil he'd caused in her life, he still crept in the deepest, darkest shadows of her subconscious. Like some kind of mischievous fiend, waiting to catch her at her happiest moments and take those away from her, too.

But Roman didn't throw his hands up in defeat. Instead, he motioned towards the living room. She got up, following him to the couch, and sat on the opposite end.

"Do you want to talk about him?" Roman asked after a long pause. "I know it's hard. And I am so sorry for asking you to. But I think it might help me understand, and help you be more at ease. I want to make this work, Chelsea."

"What if you don't like what I have to say?" she asked, playing with the ends of her hair nervously.

"I'm not going anywhere. Have a little faith. A good man once said, 'Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase.'"

She looked at him, her blue eyes locking into his grays.

"Was it your grandpa?" she asked.

He smiled. "No, actually. He was a good man, too, but Martin Luther King was the right answer there." He moved closer to her, closing the gap she'd intentionally left between them.

"You don't have to tell me everything tonight. I don't expect you to. A small piece at a time is fine by me."

Chelsea sighed again, feeling like a rock had just plummeted into her stomach.

She started with the dreams she'd had, about how Roman and Jeff had turned into one another. How at first she thought it was odd to be dreaming about Roman at all, but quickly realized it was because he was all she thought about during the day.

Chelsea told him about the first time Jeff had given her cocaine, and how he had mesmerized her by giving her any attention at all. She admitted that he was considered a huge star, and at the time, she was considered a nobody. Looking back, she realized that he flocked to her because he saw a weakness.

She dragged on her story, hating how much the truth hurt to say out loud. She revealed that at first, he'd seemed like he was trying to take away her physical pain away, sliding drugs her way to make her feel like she could achieve anything. She told him that she knew that it was someone on the roster that was selling to Jeff, but she never knew who it was.

"But, if I ever find out. I'll kill them. I want to kill whoever would intentionally provide to Jeff knowing full-well the kinds of things he did."

She told him about the shots of whiskey she'd take to forget about the mental torture she was going through, about the Adderall that he would give her in exchange for a quick fuck in whatever deserted hallway they could find.

She told him about the time she'd read his text messages from his girlfriend, and he ended up giving her stitches. She couldn't look him in the eyes during that one, shamefully admitting that he had raped her but was too fucked up to really care.

He listened to her talk, and his eyes seemed to hold her pain in them, too. She really didn't want to burden him with all the gloomy stories and startling memories she kept in her own lockbox, but talking about it was helping. Chelsea could see now more than ever that even though she pretended to be on her A-game, she was constantly letting fear run her life. Just as Roman had said before, she still let Jeff ultimately rule her thoughts. After all, she hadn't tried to move on or date at all yet.

But in her heart, she knew it was time to let it go. Finally, she was going to face her demons, with her own Superman by her side. She imagined walking into the darkness in her head that Jeff still owned, and shining a flashlight on him. '

Time to banish and conquer.

* * *

Roman couldn't believe the amount of crap Jeff Hardy had put this girl through. He could tell she tried watering it down a lot, for fear of him judging her. But from what he gathered, the only fault that she carried was not knowing when or how to walk away. It seemed like he was abusive in every form possible, using her own emotions as his secret weapon.

When she'd told him a tiny bit about the first time they'd slept together, it clicked. He understood completely why she had been hung up on this dumbass for so long.

"I remember waking up the next morning in so much pain. I had spins, and I immediately ran to the bathroom, afraid I was going to puke all over Jeff. I don't remember a whole lot, but I wanted to set our relationship in stone, and being stupid and naïve, I slept with him.

"I should've known that even though I gave him that piece of me I could never get back, he'd never leave his girlfriend to be with me. They'd been together for so long, and I doubt I was the only girl he'd put on the sideline. All that time we spent together, I'd profess my undying love for him, and he'd just sit there. I knew he didn't care, no matter how badly I wanted him to. He just wanted someone, and it didn't matter if it was me or not. He'd be willing to fill the empty space in his bed with _anyone_ when he couldn't be with _her_. Oh, I'd hear stories backstage all the time. I remember, even Matt—his own brother! Matt was getting worried that Jeff was weaseling his way into his relationship with Amy. I just ignored it all, because I hoped that it wasn't true. I stupidly just hoped that he wasn't as terrible a person as he was beginning to be."

Chelsea began to pull a loose thread from the hem of her flannel shorts, and Roman kept his eyes on her.

"Anyways, when I woke up, I prayed it was all a dream. I never wanted to do something like that just for the sake of keeping someone around. I wanted to be with someone who wanted to be with me, because of me. Not because I put out, not because I was easy to manipulate, and not because I was a pretty face. But when I came back to the bed after I'd puked my guts out from all that damn liquor, I saw all the blood, and I knew that it wasn't a dream. I'd let him have that piece of me…and I'd never get it back." She was crying now, and Roman watched as she flicked a tear away. He pulled her close, letting her sob into his chest.

Even though Roman had lost his virginity when he was only sixteen, he did remember that he was crushed when he'd broken up with his high school sweetheart. He felt terrible for Chelsea, and he knew now that it wasn't just Jeff that she had to learn to forgive, but herself. He understood how much she regretted her relationship with Hardy now, because she hadn't come to terms with her actions.

Jeff Hardy had not only abused this woman, but ripped away a piece of her trust every time he'd climbed into bed with her. Or hallway. Or bathroom.

Still holding Chelsea, he began to stroke her hair, feeling her begin to relax.

"Shitty people do shitty things," he told her. "What Jeff did to you was disgusting, and the way he treated you was even worse than that. The best thing I can tell you is that he is the one who will be sleeping with those ghosts at his bedside. That's a heavy weight on his mind, and I can guarantee that. You are stronger, better, smarter, and much more beautiful of a person than Jeff is. And I understand how hard this is. But I want nothing more than to be a part of your life now. The life that you've created by yourself, for yourself."

Chelsea laid back into Roman's chest, relaxing against him. "I will never understand why the good people in the world go through the most emotional trauma," she said, letting Roman envelope her into his chest, his arms pulling her as close as she could be.

"Because they've got the most open hearts, and want believe that everyone else is a good person, too," he stroked her hair again, lost in thought. It was true, too. Maybe she still had adolescent beliefs about love, but in a sense, it was a very pure thing. While people flung around the word "love" like high-fives, Chelsea still believed in the sentiment behind the word, in an almost hopeless romantic sense. Yet, if more people considered love to be a whole separate class than sex, marriage, or money; there would probably be a lot more happy people in the world.

Yes, Chelsea was going to be a tough journey for him. But he was a strong believer in true love, too. That strolled hand-in-hand alongside the idea that the more you got to know someone, the more remarkable they became. Sure, the mystery behind Chelsea and her deep, dark secrets was slowly being scraped away. But now, he was chipping down the stone walls she'd built around herself. Roman also felt that in an astonishing way, he'd connected with her. Connected with her in such a way that he didn't even believe possible. She'd opened up and trusted him with bits of her story, and now that they'd shared these small, memorable moments together, he already knew that she was becoming a piece of him.

With Chelsea, patience was going to be the key to success, and Roman knew that.

He closed his eyes, feeling her heart beat, and listened to her breathing. She took slow, shallow breaths, and he knew that she'd fallen asleep.

He kissed the top of her head, letting his body relax on the plush couch. "I know this is way too early to tell you when you're awake, Chelsea. But I think I'm falling in love with you," he whispered.

His admittance clung to the silent air, but he didn't mind. One day, Chelsea would know how great his feelings were for her.

One day.


	14. Chapter 14

"Chelsea, thank you for coming to speak with me today," the billion-dollar princess opened the door to a makeshift office, welcoming the raven-haired diva inside.

As if Chelsea had a choice. She could think of plenty of things she'd rather be doing.

Talking to Steph wasn't exactly at the top of her list...

Chelsea was nervous, unsure about what the big deal was. When Stephanie had left a message on her cell phone that she needed a moment to speak with her, her heart plummeted to her knees. Either it was good news, or terrible. And if Chelsea had to guess, it was probably the latter; she'd heard from Tamina a few nights ago that the Total Divas were less than thrilled with her social media slams. In fact, Summer Rae had marched into Stephanie's office, demanding some kind of action be taken.

But Chelsea didn't understand why _they_ were the ones feeling attacked. All that Chelsea had done was return to the company, which had changed significantly since she'd been gone. But so far, she was happy with the way things were going for her.

In any case, a full week had now passed since Natalya had intentionally bombed their interview, and now, they were just hours away from the new Smackdown taping. A full week since Chelsea took matters into her own hands and called out Eva Marie, Summer Rae, and of course, Natalya. Twitter was a beautiful thing.

But it wasn't all drama. Indeed, it had been a full week; but full of amazing moments.

Before Chelsea and Roman got back on the road, he'd taken her to see Loretta Mae once more, gone to a nearby habitat park—which housed wild flamingos; played at an arcade and won 3,000 tickets, then gave them away to the happiest little kid of the year. Chelsea had signed her first autograph in months when the lucky kid's parents recognized her, and it was hard not to feel awestruck. After all, it was her they'd recognized first, not Roman. Of course they would recognize him later, but signing "XOXO, CHELSEA SWEETLY" on the napkin in Sharpie gave her the kind of buzz that she had been longing for.

The new couple spent most the ride to Georgia continuing to get to know petty things about each other (Chelsea's full name was Chelsea Austen Schwedt, named after Jane Austen herself), arguing over what music they should listen to (Not Chelsea's, because Roman said it was terrible), and discussing which chain restaurant was the best (Wendy's won, Qdoba a close second). They'd arrived in Georgia the following day, staying in a tiny, one-bed hotel room. Roman offered to sleep on the floor, but Chelsea was happy to sleep alongside him. Aside from tons of kissing, they managed to "keep they damn hands to they-selfs," as Loretta Mae would say.

The last few days had gone way too quickly before Monday rolled around. Dean had trained her for almost three hours on Monday morning, telling her that he could tell she didn't work much over her short break. Chelsea sheepishly admitted that she really hadn't been keeping up on the strict regimen. Dean shook his head, mumbling about focus. In return for her neglectful ways, he worked her to the nitty gritty.

Shaming herself as sweat poured out of places she didn't know it could, Chelsea promised herself that she would keep up on some kind of workout schedule even on those glorious days off. Even though she didn't have a scheduled match yet and most of her time was devoted to commentating, she couldn't slip up any more. She knew that the time would come where she would have to wrestle once again in the ring, and the last thing she wanted was to disappoint anyone.

While on commentary on Monday night, she'd gone a little off-script, cheering for AJ while she competed against Nikki Bella. Michael Cole bounced off from that, and teased Chelsea for cheering on AJ. He reminded her that most divas didn't like the Black Widow because she carried the championship belt. Chelsea ad-libbed, stating that it's not the belt that she was after. What captured her interest was that AJ stood for something completely different than the other women.

"The other women are showcasing completely impossible standards. Flashing their money around on their television shows, eating elaborate dinners. And being terrible to one another once their backs are turned. This is a different kind of war," Chelsea explained.

Even though AJ Lee had lost the match that night, Chelsea was happy to see that her friend had this wicked smile on her face as Nikki paraded up the ramp. Even in defeat, AJ never faltered; and Chelsea wanted to do the same. Whenever that time came, of course.

Chelsea was looking forward to spending time with AJ again. They had a lot to catch up on, and she was really hoping to gain some insight as to how a relationship in this company would work out. Earlier, they'd planned to meet after Smackdown, gearing up to head to Oregon to do a few house shows.

But first, she'd have to get through this meeting with Stephanie. Yet again, Chelsea was only scheduled to be on the announce team, just as she was on Monday night. Luckily, she had no interviews scheduled. She figured that with Natalie at her most vile point, the uppers didn't want to set her into the same trap that they did a week ago. Hopefully, Stephanie didn't think that Chelsea had actually _agreed_ to let Natalie humiliate her. She would never willingly allow Natalya to run rampant with her comments to boost their characters and story line. That wasn't the case at all. In the same respect, she hoped that Stephanie hadn't evilly set her up to gain interest from fans.

But that couldn't be right. They'd cut the interview from last week's show.

Trying to ignore everything that was going on in her own head, Chelsea forced herself back into reality. Taking a deep breath, Chelsea pulled the metal chair that sat opposite of Stephanie. Her mind was going a million miles per minute, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Still, being in the office with a McMahon wasn't normally a good thing.

"It's good to see you, Stephanie," she responded carefully, sliding into the chair opposite the boss. She was grateful that she'd already gone and gotten dressed for the evening, her black flip-flops stuffed in her bags. Stephanie was clearly dressed in a business casual way.

Tonight, Chelsea was wearing gray denim cropped jeans, black ankle boots, and a black layered chiffon tank. She wore sparkling earrings that dangled, and once in awhile she had to rip at her hair because they kept tangling in it. Her hair was down and curled, eye makeup dark as ever, and her tattoo on grand display.

All items chosen via Vickie, of course. It looked quite beautiful on her, but it was not her style in any sense. But perhaps, Chelsea thought, that it might not be a bad thing.

Stephanie sat opposite her, folding her hands on top of the desk. Her piercing blue eyes studied her for a moment, as if trying to analyze some kind of equation. The top of the desk was already scattered with paperwork, Chelsea noticed that the once-young looking woman was beginning to look older, wrinkles starting to invade her youthful-looking eyes.

"I wanted to let you know that I'm very pleased with your microphone skills, Chelsea," she looked straight into her heavily made-up eyes. "Putting you on the announce team was an excellent choice. And I'd like to keep using you as an interviewer. Perhaps even bring more perspective to the other anti-divas, like AJ, or Tamina. Though I know you've already befriended _them_ ," she smiled, a little too sweetly for even Chelsea's taste. It was no secret that Stephanie and AJ didn't like each other much, and even AJ made that clear when she'd confided that she was slated to drop her belt to Paige, the newcomer from NXT. Chelsea couldn't imagine why who she chose as friends would piss off her boss, but who knew?

"Now, it's come to my attention that you and Natalie Niedhart already have real life tension," she took out a pen and paper from one of her stacks and began to write furiously. "And I think that's great," she looked up for a moment, giving Chelsea a moment to glance at her scribbling. It was some kind of warped timeline.

"I loved that you took our social media networking to the next level without any hint from our experts. It makes everything more believable. I just want to make sure you know not to go overboard with your tweets. Summer Rae and Natalie believe that you overstepped your boundaries with your account. As you probably know, Summer came to me and asked me to look into your posts. I hae, and personally, I see no issues.

"I also wanted to make sure that you knew that no management, including myself, had anything to do with that interview that was given last week. I know well enough that you wouldn't allow Nattie to take advantage of such a sore spot for you. That was all Natalie's doing, and as a veteran, she should know better than to let her feelings interfere with her work. I'd like you to know that we have fined her as well as taken away her number one contendership following Wrestlemania."

Chelsea wondered if that was before or after AJ was supposed to lose her title to a rookie diva. She didn't say a word, but bit her lip nervously. She was certain that AJ's storylines were meant only for AJ. The WWE was weird when it came to trying to keep backstage news tight-lipped. It was likely that AJ wasn't supposed to mention Paige's soon-to-be call up. If she shared that information, Chelsea figured her friend's own penalty would be slapped on the table.

"I didn't suspect that you knew Nat's plan for embarrassing me," Chelsea said lamely. It was a blatant lie, of course; the idea had popped into her head just moments ago. She mentally scolded herself for thinking that Stephanie McMahon would purposefully humiliate her in front of the WWE Universe. After all, Stephanie had stuck her neck out by sending her off to rehab, and didn't want that to bite her in the ass.

"Believe me, we were irate," Stephanie's eyes had that gleam in them, and Chelsea knew she wasn't joking. "We can't prevent people from finding out about your past struggles, but we sure don't want to showcase the downfalls, either. We want to you to continue to build yourself up. We want you to prove yourself, and prove what you can do." Stephanie clicked her perfectly manicured nails against the desk, deep in thought as she continued to study Chelsea.

A long moment had passed before Stephanie spoke again."What I'd like to do now is get the Authority involved. Let the WWE Universe know that I have seen both sides, and the only way to settle the locker room problems is in the ring. We will then see what the fan's reactions are, and carry on from there. Now, I've got a short timeline here—" she pointed to the scratch paper—"And I'd like to see you fighting Summer Rae next week. At this point, I think her abilities streamline yours."

Chelsea hoped she was slated to win. The way Stephanie spoke, it seemed that the anti-divas would outshine the Total Divas. Although at this point, the outcome of her match was most likely "to be determined," she'd make one hell of a show beating Summer's scrawny ass. If she couldn't get to Natalie yet, well…that idiot would have to do.

She made a mental note to get on Dean for extra training sessions between now and then. Summer had great flexibility, and she was going to showcase that. But Chelsea was the brawling type, and she wanted to show the fans that she was someone worth watching.

"Anyways, as I've said. You've been doing well on the microphone, obviously. You've gained more support than you think. I've spoken with Dean, and he guarantees you will be able to perform to our standards within a week. I trust him, and can't wait to see what you've gained from working with one of our top superstars."

Stephanie stood up, dismissing Chelsea. She stood up, too, trying to mask her surprise that Dean had commended her at all, especially after the mockery of a session she'd last had with him.

"Thank you, Stephanie," Chelsea finally choked out, the whole meeting some kind of whirlwind. "As always, I appreciate your time."

Stephanie walked her to the door, clapping her on the shoulder. "You know I'm rooting for you to excel," she said, standing in the doorway. She closed the door, not allowing Chelsea to say another word.

She stood there dumbfounded, staring at the closed door. She began walking backwards, trying to wrap her head around what was going on. She was going to debut on Smackdown next week. Stephanie wasn't pissed at her for abusing WWE Twitter accounts. Natalie and Summer made a point about tearing her down and going to cry about it to Stephanie. Dean didn't think she was hopeless.

 _And then, there was Roman_...Chelsea's heart skipped a beat as his eyes flashed into her mind.

Was this all happening? Real life? For a minute, she wasn't sure, and half expected to wake up in her rehab-center bed alongside Lennon. Back then, she never would've believed her life could change so much, so quickly. But it had, and she was lucky.

Her thoughts were put to a sudden halt when she backed right into another body.

"Aw, look Natalie. Wednesday Addams got locked out of the morgue," Chelsea whipped around quickly, seeing none other but Natalie and Summer Rae, acting as though they were best buddies.

"Well, if it isn't Dumb and Dumber," she acknowledged the two blondes. It was the best she could do on the spot, a sick feeling beginning to build in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to escape, and fast, from these two. Nobody seemed to be around, so if they ganged up on her, Stephanie was her only hope. She wondered how thin the walls were, and if Stephanie could hear her yell if she needed help. She was only a few feet away from that office door, but that seemed like a thousand miles right now.

She composed herself, refusing to act like a cornered rabbit. She had the weapon of words, and she was ready to unleash.

"Wow, did you come up with that yourself?" Summer Rae sniffed, flipping her fake, over-bleached hair.

"I did," Chelsea conceded. "Much unlike your little Wednesday Addams remark. That nickname was conjured up by my NXT pro, Maryse. And even though we had a tough time at first, it became a term of endearment. So, thank you," Chelsea gave a bitchy smile. "But I don't expect that you'd know nothing about that, of course," she finished, rolling her eyes.

Summer Rae scoffed, wrinkling her nose. Chelsea could feel a small fire burning deep within her now, and all she wanted to do was gouge out both Nat's and Summer's eyeballs. She already had underlying issues with Natalie for whatever reason, but Summer Rae, she just flat-out didn't like.

"Why would anyone pay any mind to you, Chelsea?" Nattie shot, coming to Summer's defense. "It's not like you were worth watching back then. You were too doped up to even perform at WWE's standards. I doubt that you'll be worth watching now. You'll be in and out of the company just as quickly as before."

 _What the fuck?_ Even though Chelsea wasn't an avid follower of Total Divas, she knew that Summer and Nat didn't like each other. But right now, that theory was totally shot. Chelsea hated the fact that she was beginning to get worked up, but she was.

"You know, that's funny. Seeing as I trained at _your_ family's legendary dungeon," Chelsea reminded her, sounding more confident than she really was. "Anyways, I really have somewhere to be. Am I on a farm? Sure seems like it, with you two cows grazing in front of me."

Summer looked like Chelsea had physically harmed her, hatred burning in the blonde's eyes.

Natalie shook her head, unbothered. Unfortunately, she wasn't about to let Chelsea just slide by with a comment like that.

"That's cute, Chels. You can sit there and attack us all you want with your words, but at the end of the day, all you are is...a commentator," Nattie paused for theatrics, and Summer Rae stifled a giggle. "All you're ever going to be is a sad story. Just face it, not even Dean Ambrose can change you so much that people will wake up and forget about the shit you've done. Sorry, Chelsea, but Dean can't chase away your demons!" she was pissed now, her face splotchy with red.

"Dean is helping me become the wrestler that you and I both know I can be," Chelsea responded, managing to remain fairly calm. "I'm here now. Clean and sober, and at this time, demon-free," Chelsea hadn't realized that she'd been gritting her teeth. She imagined how it'd feel if she knocked both of these women straight in their jaws. That way, it'd probably prevent any further jaw-jacking from happening in the near future...

"All you're ever going to be is a loser drug addict," Summer said under her breath. Chelsea's head snapped up quickly, scowling.

Chelsea shook her head, putting her index finger in the air as if lecturing the other two women. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a cameraman wandering around. She realized that the cameraman was likely going to attempt to get candid footage for the show later on.

"That's where you're wrong. I know how to manage my issues, and I know how to change the negative things I've gone through into something possible. I'm here because I deserve to be. Because I worked for it, and work for it every day. What have you done that's so great?" Chelsea paused, looking Summer Rae up and down. The camera guy was now watching them, and they were undoubtedly being recorded. "At the end of the day, all you are is…a dancer." Chelsea smiled back, her adrenaline working overtime now.

Proud of herself, she knew that he'd rush straight to Stephanie with this footage. Surely, there would be something they could use to hype up their feud and her in-ring debut against Summer.

As the cameraman took off, Summer Rae rolled her eyes, and Natalie stepped towards Chelsea. Now she was only inches towards her face, and Chelsea feared that she was going to take a swing. She was sure she could take her on one-on-one, so long that Summer Rae didn't hold her by her hair or something.

"Between you and me," Natalie grew serious, "at the end of the day, you are going to be irrelevant. Nobody's going to care. Just like Jeff didn't."

Hearing his name put a sting in her belly, but at least it didn't pain her heart anymore.

"Jeff is irrelevant," she spat back, keeping her voice level.

But Natalie shook her head, grabbing a strand of Chelsea's freshly dyed red hair. "You kept the blue for so long. For what?"

Chelsea started to say something, but Natalya hushed her. "Don't answer that. I know why. Everybody does. I like the red, though. Did you use your own blood?"

"What are you talking about?" Chelsea stepped back a little, confused at the odd shift in their conversation.

"Well, after you heard that Jeff and Beth were going to have a baby. You probably went and slit your wrists over that. It makes for nice hair dye," her eyes bore into hers, and Chelsea was stunned.

She hadn't heard the news. She guessed that nobody told her because everyone was worried about how she'd react. Even though she shouldn't care, a part of her _did_ care. Chelsea wished nothing but pain and hurt on Jeff Hardy after all the suffering he'd put her through. Why did he get this shit handed to him? A wife, a house, a car, a family…how the fuck did that work out? Meanwhile, she was broken.

 _Broken._

"What's wrong, Chelsea? Don't tell me you didn't know!" Summer Rae laughed. "I mean, it was all over Twitter this morning. And since you're such an expert with Twitter..."

Chelsea lunged at Summer, but someone held her back. Actually, two someones did.

"Don't even, Chelsea, it's not worth it," a familiar voice stated. Chelsea was thrashing wildly, almost smacking Tamina's perfectly smooth caramel-colored face.

"No, it isn't. Seriously, Natalie, grow up," AJ held on to Chelsea loosely, letting Tamina do most the work.

Natalie threw her head back, laughing, and Summer Rae joined in.

"Did wee little AJ just tell _you_ to grow up?" Summer laughed heartily as she pretended to wipe a fake tear from her eye.

"You know, I think she did. Funny, she should take a look in the mirror," Natalie looked the Divas champion up and down. "Not only do you look and dress like a ten-year-old boy, but you act like one." Natalie laughed once. Tamina finally put Chelsea down, now using her size to try and intimidate the other women. But they kept laughing, and Summer Rae kept going.

"It's a wonder how Phil would ever choose you over Maria or Amy," Summer spat. Whatever she'd just said must have triggered AJ. The Black Widow shot the two a death glare, and Natalie smacked Summer Rae, a hint to shut the hell up. It was common courtesy amongst the divas and superstars to not bring in someone's significant others into personal dramas. Especially superstars like AJ's fiancé, who was still widely respected despite his own troubles with the McMahon family.

"I think it's best you two run along now and play with your Barbie dolls," Tamina spoke, slightly baring her teeth like some kind of rabid wolf.

"Better than watching Pokémon and swapping comic books," Summer replied huffily, turning on her heel to leave. Natalie wasn't completely finished yet. She looked at Tamina, and walked right past her. Back to Chelsea.

"Jeff is irrelevant, my ass," she said quietly, almost inaudibly.

Natalie watched Chelsea's face fall, slowly backing away. She was nodding, as if she knew it all along. As if she knew that Chelsea's biggest fear was still the extreme superstar.

And unfortunately, not only had she hit the nail on the head, but it was now guaranteed that she'd use Jeff Hardy as a weapon against Chelsea. That type of weapon was a destructive one. Nattie blew a kiss, then followed Summer Rae down the narrow hallway, and Chelsea breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she said to her friends, who stood behind her still.

"No problem. We didn't want you to get suspended for fighting—even though I can't say I'd blame you if you ripped Summer Rae's hair out," Tamina said back, and the three took off toward the opposite end of the hallway.

"Yeah, well, there's still plenty of time," AJ was still clearly still stewing over the comments about Maria and Amy. And although Chelsea wasn't certain, she could guess that they were probably a few ex-girlfriends.

"You know what's pathetic? The catty bullshit. They rip on appearances and boyfriends. That's all they seem to care about," Tamina's eyebrows furrowed as she said this, and then shook her head. "I expected better from someone like Nattie."

Chelsea was only half-listening, lost in her own thoughts. She was still feeling numb over the new revelation that Jeff was happy as ever, not miserable and alone.

Maybe Natalie was right. She wanted him so badly to be irrelevant to her now. She was focusing so much on blocking out the dreams, thoughts, and memories, yet she was never able to erase him completely. And now, Nat knew where to hit her where it hurt. Nattie was well-aware that Chelsea still had a hole in her heart from the younger Hardy Brother.

Whatever the case, Chelsea had to learn to let that roll off her back. In truth, Jeff was nothing to her anymore, and she needed to keep that mentality. No matter what she'd hoped in the past, he was never going to come riding in on a white horse, gleaming in his armor. And she accepted that. She'd done an excellent job so far, pretending Jeff Hardy had never existed in her world.

Especially now that her world consisted of someone who actually deserved to be there. No, perhaps Roman was not a knight, but rather, part of a Shield. But that was just as good.


	15. Chapter 15

It was more often than not that Chelsea would recall prior conversations she'd had with Lennon. It was odd how many little things would remind her of a talk they'd had in the past. This time, the realization that Jeff Hardy had moved on completely made Chelsea remember one specific day...

 _ **Last year**_

"The number-one rule for getting over a person," Lennon wagged her finger in Chelsea's direction, "Is to quit dwelling. And by that, I mean don't go scouring the Internet for pictures."

But Chelsea wasn't listening. She didn't really care. All the talking today with the rehabilitation center's primary shrink made her grow overwhelmingly curious. She had to know. So, she sat on her bed cross-legged. Opposite of her was Lennon, dragging her finger across the screen of her phone.

"I want you to know, I totally don't agree with this," Lennon warned her. "For your own sake, reconsider."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, and Lennon huffed in response. There was a long stretch of strained quietness as Chelsea anticipated whatever news she was about to read. After awhile, Lennon let out a short, sharp breath. Chelsea's ears perked up, leaning across to peak around Lennon's arm.

Her friend bit her lip, and Lennon handed her the little purple phone. Chelsea closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

Sure as shit, there was the photograph that she'd been dreading. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes as the photograph on Google Images stared back at her. There he was, his teal hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. He wore a black suit with an orange tie. To his left stood his brother, Matt Hardy, wearing a pair of shades perched on his head, sporting a navy blue suit. And on his arm was…her. Beth looked average as ever, her dress not really a gown that traditional brides would have chosen. She looked somewhat frumpy, but was beaming regardless.

"Don't you think for your wedding, you'd want to look your best? I mean, she looks like she bought that curtain at a garage sale," Chelsea said bitterly, giving her friend her phone back.

Wiping a tear off her cheek, Chelsea hoped that Lennon hadn't noticed. But of course she had, and she slid across the quilt of the bed to envelope her in a hug, which was generally something she didn't do. Lennon didn't show sympathy often. It wasn't that she didn't want to, it's just that she didn't know how.

"I told you not to go poking around to find something you weren't ready to see," she mumbled into Chelsea's ear. She pulled away and gave her a weak smile. "The wounds are just still too raw. I don't understand why you would want to rub some salt in them when you don't have to."

"I just had to know if he ended up doing it," Chelsea admitted, referring to his new marriage. "Why would he? He wasn't faithful to her, and she's nothing special anyways…"

Lennon put up an index finger, as if to silence her.

"Chels, don't be attacking her just because of Jeff. I know what he did to you, and believe me, I know it was wrong. But don't throw stones at glass houses. Because you have some blame, too. Think about it, how would you feel if you were the girlfriend, and there was…another woman?"Lennon had an edge to the last words. She had just found out that her fiancé had cheated on her, and despite the week full of crying and screaming, the pair had apparently agreed to work it out. But Chelsea knew it still killed Lennon inside, and now, Chelsea couldn't help feeling guilty. She knew both roles clearly now, both from her friend's perspective and her own.

Lennon continued: "Cheaters will always be cheaters. There's no getting around it. Once that trust is shattered, sometimes you cut up your hands trying to pick up the pieces." She furrowed her brow for a moment, as though she was about to take her own advice with her own messy relationship, then shook it off. She got up from the bed and began pacing, as though she was having an anxiety attack.

"Just because someone isn't right next to you all of the time doesn't mean it's okay to sleep with someone else," she talked to no one now, and she was getting angry.

"Karma's a bitch, though. He'll figure that out. They always do..." Lennon began to clean the mess on her dresser that didn't exist.

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

Of course, Chelsea broke her dear friend's rule yet again. She had to know if Nattie was bullshitting her. Chelsea hoped that she was, but her gut instinct told her that the rumors were true.

This time, she found herself searching through countless engines and gossip websites trying to find anything that would point her in the direction of Jeff Hardy's unborn child.

There were no recent pictures of his blushing bride, thankfully; that would probably put her a little bit over the edge. Instead, she bumped into a sports news post, the headline reading: _Younger Hardy Brother Says He's 'Proud to Change Life for his Daughter'._

There it was. There was a picture of Jeff smiling, and a full-report. Curiosity overwhelming Chelsea again, she read the whole article. There it was, in black and white: Jeff Hardy confirmed that the pair was expecting their first child in July.

Fighting the urge to throw her phone against the cinder block wall, she allowed the hot tears take over. She'd always hoped that Lennon meant Jeff would get the karma he deserved, but now she realized she was talking about her fiancé. At least, he was her fiancé at the time.

Even still, she let the emotion consume her. It wasn't sadness or grief, but more or less frustration. Sure, she'd met an amazing person. She shouldn't care what Jeff did with his life anymore. Yet, she couldn't shake the disappointment.

Could she be...jealous? Perhaps that was this feeling. Good things take time, and she understood that. She had a great thing going with Roman. It was a young love with a lot of silly, fun things. It was simple and carefree.

But Jeff had made such an example out of her feelings, trust, and heart that seeing him act like she never meant anything to him was still a solid stab to the back. How was she ever going to move on from the goofy love with Roman to something more serious?

Chelsea let her body slide down the wall until she was in a crouching position, allowing her head to bury into her knees. She probably looked as silly as she felt, but she didn't care much. Nobody was around anyways. She did, however, care that unfortunately, Nat was right. As much as she wanted Jeff to fade away into the background, he was not yet off her mind for good. Even though he should be…

"Chelsea?" she peaked out of the corner of her eye, her vision still blurred. She buried her head back into her lap, annoyed at the intrusion.

Dean slid next to her, a weird nervous chill taking over her body. Dean had made it clear that they weren't cool with each other. They were colleagues. They just simply worked together. And although he never said it, she knew it. And she supposed it wasn't a surprise that he didn't like her all that much. She didn't like him, either.

He was a shitty person.

"Go away," she mumbled, wiping tears from her eyes. Why was he coming to annoy her? The only person Dean cared about was himself. That was a fact.

"Nope," Dean popped the 'p', turning to face her. "Heard from a few folks that Nattie and Summer roughed you up a bit."

"I held my own," she responded curtly, wishing she could disappear. How fantastic was that, that whispers of their little 3-way catfight had already made its way backstage? Not to mention, part of it was going to be viewed by millions of people. Not Chelsea's best moment by any means.

"Yeah, clearly," Dean eyed her. "Who cares what those two morons have to say? Heard you were ready to throw down. I'm here to tell you that I'm proud of you—you'll do excellent in the ring. But, I want to remind you that have to control that temper backstage. I mean, if anyone's been there, it's me. Instead of blowing a fuse, just make Summer look like a moron in the ring next week. I know you can wrestle circles around her. I've watched her, and her moves are very stiff."

"Yeah, but she's not rusty," Chelsea mumbled back, trying to keep her tone level so she didn't let on that she was still upset.

"No," Dean conceded, nodding slightly in agreement. "No, she isn't rusty. But to be honest, neither are you. Not really. You've trained a lot to be where you are. Compared to where you were, you'll be just fine. We only got just a few dents to hammer out and your in-ring talent will be just as good as Michelle McCool's, or even Melina's."

Chelsea thought that seemed like a stretch. Michelle managed to pull off very perfect, precise moves. She was graceful, much like a ballerina. And Melina—aside from the obnoxious screeching, she remembered—just took a lot of chances. Being trained by John Morrison had done her well, and she used the ropes often. But, Melina's daredevil moves had caused her to be out with a knee injury for an immeasurable amount of time.

"Why are you being nice to me?" the tears were gone now, and Chelsea felt like she was walking on thin ice with Ambrose. She was sure the ice was going to crack. With Dean, she always had to tiptoe.

Dean looked thoughtful. "I read somewhere that the only time you should look down on someone is when you're helping them up," he responded. "And I can't just pretend I don't see you. At the end of the day, I want to save you from yourself."

Chelsea snorted in response. "First of all, _Ambrose,"_ she shot back, a hint of disdain in her voice, "I'm the hero in this story. I definitely don't need a knight in shining armor. And I certainly don't need you. I don't need saving."

Dean's eyes flashed, and Chelsea knew she'd struck a nerve with him.

"You're right, you don't need saving. Yet, there you are, looking to Roman to help you get over Jeffy. Newsflash, Chels...you can't use Roman as a stepping stone to get over someone. That's totally fucked up. I suggest you re-think that strategy before you ruin everything for yourself as well as _my_ team," Dean snarled the last bit, reminding Chelsea that the Shield were his boys. At the end of the day, she wasn't part of them. No matter what.

Chelsea bit her lip, racking her brain for the proper response. This attitude was more similar to that of the Dean that Chelsea knew and hated. He had a douche-y, know-it-all tone to his monologue.

"Like you know all about excellent relationships," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "The last person on the planet to give out relationship advice is you, Ambrose. I mean, just ask-"

"I know I messed up!" Dean yelled back, cutting her off. "I always do. I always did. Chelsea, listen to me. I wanted things to work out with her. I tried to pretend things were gonna get better, but I knew that after...well, y'know. Things wouldn't...couldn't...be the same between—"

"Stop," Chelsea cut him off. She didn't want to talk about this today. Or ever. "I don't need to hear your apologies. I'm not the one you did wrong."

Admittedly, Chelsea was starting to get angry. Dean must've sensed that he'd gone too far. He stood up, a solemn look in his deep brown eyes. He kind of looked like a wounded puppy, and for a split second, Chelsea thought that maybe he was sorry.

But she knew better. He wasn't sorry, and he never would be.

"Forget about the past, Chelsea. I hate how it worked out, but we've got to move on from it. But think about what I said. If you're only using Roman, just...don't. He deserves better than that." Chelsea thought for a moment he was being intentionally hurtful, but when she looked up to meet his eyes, he wouldn't meet hers.

With that, he left the woman alone in the hall again, and she let a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. How could everyone go on with their lives, pretending the drama and pain never happened?

Dean seemingly had figured out how to move forward from his own demons. But in the meantime, Chelsea was still trying to climb her way out of her own grave. If it weren't for Roman, she would still be climbing. Having him in her life certainly helped speed up the process of learning how to live again. And love.

But honestly, what did that mean? Dean had accused her of using his friend as a stepping stone. A tool to get over Jeff Hardy. Of course, Chelsea didn't believe that she was _using_ him. Not after everything that they'd talked about recently. Besides, she was able to open up to him and that was a leap forward in itself. She'd really kept her heart on a leash these days, never letting it wander.

On the other hand, she knew her head was still warped. She had only been in one real relationship, because calling the thing her and Jeff had a "relationship" was quite the long shot. He did some serious damage to her head, heart, and soul; and sometimes she felt that she was a darker, drearier person because of him.

So maybe as much as she cared for Roman, and wanted to be with him, she had a lot of work to do within herself after all. Maybe if just because you deeply cared for someone, didn't mean you should stick around and screw up their lives, too. Dean had said it best: Roman deserved better. If she couldn't be certain of her own intentions, then maybe it wasn't the right timing.

 _Fuck._ All this thinking was bringing on a massive migraine.

"Chelsea Sweetly? We're on in ten," someone carrying around a clipboard had called out to her, shaking her back to reality. She'd have more time to think later. Right now, it was time to sit next to JBL and Michael Cole at the announce table.

But first, she would have to make a pit stop to the makeup ladies. She probably had black, teary streaks running down her cheeks. Not cute.

* * *

 _ **Later that night**_

"Michael Cole here, sitting ringside with John Bradshaw Layfield and the lovely Chelsea Sweetly," the scrawniest of the three said into the camera, a dumb smile on his face. Chelsea blew a kiss, not bothering to smile. She wasn't really feeling up to it tonight. She'd learned that it was grossly painful to fake a smile when all you wanted to do was scream.

"We have quite a Smackdown lined up for everyone watching at home. First, the Real Americans will face off against the Usos. Later tonight, NXT's very own Emma will take on Summer Rae...Chelsea, who are you going to root for?"

Chelsea was ready to punch Michael Cole in the face already. She should've figured they were going to play up the little argument backstage immediately. After all, it was going to boost the storyline, and hopefully gain enough attention that fans were able to decipher which side they stood on.

"Oh, Michael, I think everyone knows who I'm cheering for. It's no secret that I got into a scuffle backstage with Summer," she said back, ad-libbing her response.

"Did you really?" JBL spoke up, genuinely surprised.

"How could you have missed it, Bradshaw? Were you late coming to the arena tonight?" Chelsea shot back.

"JBL is late every night," Michael Cole guffawed next to her like an overgrown baboon.

"Well, fill me in then," Bradshaw huffed. "I obviously missed out on some girl-on-girl action."

Chelsea paused for a moment, taking in JBL's comment. She wanted to verbally disembowel him for making a lesbian joke. But it wasn't the time or place, and she knew that if she pissed off the veteran, she'd be thrown back into Steph's office faster than she could say "sexist."

"She's got a big mouth, but nothing to back it up," Chelsea heard herself say. "To be honest, guys, I wouldn't mind meeting Summer in the ring for my first match back. She can do all the fancy dance moves she wants, but there won't be anything do dance about once I play her some of my music."

"That sounds like a challenge to me, Cole," JBL laughed, his white teeth sparkling. "Speaking of your confrontation, Chelsea, we're being told that there's exclusive footage from backstage. But first, let's do a Raw Review."

Chelsea silently hoped that they wouldn't have a chance to bring up the backstage footage later on, and pushed it out of her mind. She called the matches with the two flaming idiots, watching the Usos dominate the Real Americans. She saw Sin Cara kick some dude's ass that she never heard of. She cheered for Hornswoggle when he helped the Two Man Band cheat to win.

Just when she'd thought the whole world had forgotten that she'd challenged Summer to a match, she was reminded that the Divas division was up next. Summer Rae would be taking on Emma tonight. In Summer's corner stood the sexy Fandango. Emma would be accompanied by the goofy Santino.

After cutting to a commercial break, Chelsea held her breath. She'd hoped that they'd forgotten all about the footage from backstage. Maybe there were time constraints on the show tonight, and they would gloss over it. But she couldn't get that lucky.

"Alright, Chelsea," JBL reminded her. "I know you're hoping for the rookie, Emma, to pull off a win tonight. Now, I want to know why," JBL sounded too fluid with his words, and Chelsea began to wonder if he was being fed lines through his headset that she was unaware of.

"Well, I-"

"But first, let's take a look at that exclusive backstage footage," Michael Cole cut her off. Chelsea squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that she was dreaming. But, when she reopened them, she peeked up at the Titantron. Sadly, her face was on it. There was no going back.

Embarrassed, Chelsea sunk lower in her leather office chair. The fans knew she was there on commentary tonight, and they were probably ready to murder her for making such a mockery out of one of the beloved Total Divas. Or rather, two of them.

But, they played the backstage segment, and there wasn't much a response at all. Chelsea didn't know what was worse, having it aired to the entire world, or having it aired and nobody seemed to care. She didn't respond to JBL or Cole making remarks about the segment. In fact, she hadn't really heard what they thought of it at all. The only thing she found herself wondering is how to make the fans care.

She was shaken from her thoughts when Emma's music hit. Without a whole lot of reaction, minus a few "Wooooo" cheers from the arena, and minor cheering, Emma was on her way to the ring. On her way down the ramp, she was doing a ridiculous dance with her arms that had everyone dancing along. She was cute, very clumsy, and a hundred percent still a rookie.

"For whatever reason, this girl has the whole building dancing along!" Cole exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. Chelsea opened her mouth to comment, but JBL jumped in instead. "Come on, she looks ridiculous. Even Summer knows that, and the only person who has the heart to tell her."

"Summer has no heart," Chelsea shot back, quieting down as Fandango's salsa music filled the arena. The pair danced down the ramp. Chelsea had to admit, Summer Rae could really move. The more she watched, the more it made sense that her in-ring capabilities were, as Dean claimed, "stiff." Her dancing moves were sharp, spot on, and she had no room for error.

The match was quickly underway, and Chelsea would put in anti-diva comments every now and then, slamming the likes of both Summer and Natalie. The two men reacted favorably to her jeers. As strange of a combination, the three of them made an almost natural team.

Somehow, Emma managed to pull off a quick win, and Summer stood in the ring dumbfounded. Meanwhile, her dance partner stood at the apron, shaking his head with his hand covering his face. He was embarrassed that they had been put out by such a "talentless" young girl. At least, that's what JBL had stated.

Chelsea decided to take her unofficial loyalty a step further. In response to the win, Chelsea stood up and began applauding Emma's win. She even did a few of the arm-swing dance moves in celebration. The cameras caught her, and she gave a thumbs-up. Maybe it was a no-no, but she didn't care. She was possibly breaking character, even. But she wanted to show that she enjoyed seeing Emma break the mold of what the WWE wanted the girls to be.

But her excitement was short-lived. Next thing she knew, Summer was standing right over the announce table, angrily glaring at Chelsea. She yelled something, but Chelsea couldn't hear it. So instead, she just waved and smiled.

That must've really ticked off Summer, because she was grabbing for Chelsea's hair. In a quick defense, Chelsea pushed her backwards, sending her flying to the floor. And perhaps she'd even put a little too much muscle into it, because Summer was still on the floor, mouth hanging open, her eyes shining as she rubbed her lower back.

Chelsea stood up, allowing the cameras to circle her. She stood evilly over Summer, waiting for her to move. If she did, she was going to pounce. Chelsea pointed to the ring. Pointed to Summer, then herself.

"See you next week, Sweet Face," she said into the microphone. "And that's not a challenge. That's a damn promise," she threw her headset on the announce table, walking away from the post for the night.

Summer scrambled to her feet, yelling obscenities Chelsea's way. Chelsea headed to the back, not bothering to listen to the blonde's snide remarks about how she was "too good" to meet her in the middle of the ring.

Indeed, it was now blatantly official. Next week, she was going to meet one of the villainous women of the "true divas" in the ring.

And as nervous as she was, Chelsea was freakin' excited as hell. She had a lot to prove in that ring yet, and hopefully she could help shake up the women's division a little bit. Seven days were going to pass by too quickly. Between then and now, there was a lot to do. A lot to prep for. Unfortunately, she'd have to seek out Dean. Otherwise, she wouldn't be totally ready.

Despite her match being a week out, she already had butterflies in her stomach, knowing that she'd be coming down that ramp as Chelsea Sweetly the diva, not the interviewer/announce team member. She started wondering if she should have Dean go through her submission move again.

God, she couldn't wait to outshine Summer. Maybe she'd even put her to sleep.

Sweet dreams.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Onward! I feel like sometimes, I am Chelsea. She is supposed to represent a lot of women who had that one guy (or girl!) who just screwed her over…and as much as you want to forget him, you can't. Like the "I hate you" to "Why would he do that to me" in 0.5 seconds. This one's for us!**

* * *

Roman enveloped his girl, giving her the greatest bear hug he could muster. Dean had told him that Natalie and Summer Rae had verbally attacked her in the hallway, and that was confirmed later on during the Smackdown taping. Though the only member of the Shield to compete tonight was Dean, all three were scheduled promos. There wasn't much time in between, and it put a serious damper on seeing Chelsea. Lame as it seemed, he did miss her.

"You really sold the story," he said to her after they'd pulled apart, grinning at her stupidly. He stroked her cheek gently, mindlessly.

AJ was still at her side, an evil grin on her face. Although he hadn't spoken much to AJ, he respected her greatly.

"That's because it's really not a story. In fact, I hope that Chels can knock a tooth out," AJ stated, her face lighting up.

Chelsea seemed distant. Roman figured that she was thinking about her match. He had to admit, he was surprised that Dean had given the green light to Stephanie to schedule her. At first, he suspected that his partner was acting maliciously so that Summer could get her shining moment.

Roman worried that she wasn't ready. He feared that Chelsea would look like she didn't belong in the ring anymore. But after speaking to Dean and voicing his concerns (perhaps in a threatening manner), Dean assured Roman that he truly believed in Chelsea. He said that even though he didn't like her, he wouldn't embarrass her to that extent. He swore that with a couple heavy training sessions, she'd be back at the top of her game.

Chelsea didn't say anything for a long while, and it was an awkward moment between the three of them. AJ gave him a shooting glare, and he knew he had to say something.

"What's wrong, Chelsea Sweetly? Nervous for life-sized Barbie?" he teased, trying to lighten the heaviness in the air.

"I just don't know if I'm really ready," she admitted, and AJ rolled her eyes.

"As soon as you square up, you are going to have so much adrenaline. The way the fans will cheer for you down to the ring? It'll make you believe you're ready. When it's personal like that, you'll be so busy trying to out-do each other, that win or lose…people are going to watch," AJ stepped in, not allowing Roman to take over any words of encouragement. This was her territory.

"The Divas division, aside from…well, you…is just struggling so much. A lot of fans get up and get refills on their sodas or take a piss or whatever. I worked hard, and I know we all do. I'm afraid that overall, it's not going to get the kind of response it should."

AJ leaned closer to the pair, nodding her head. "I know what you mean, but if you give it a thousand percent, the right people are going to notice. I promise."

That was something that was known to be true. AJ had told her in very large detail the missteps she had taken to get to the WWE. She was literally told that she had no sex appeal. She wasn't pretty enough. But instead, AJ kept proving herself in the ring, rather than worrying about her makeup.

Chelsea thanked her friend, glad that despite all of her own personal troubles, she was willing to keep pushing Chelsea forward.

Earlier, AJ had let management know she planned on taking some time off following Wrestlemania, and they'd nearly blown a gasket. Even though she'd been the champion for as long as she had, she still hadn't fully gained the respect she deserved. The more she worked, the more apparent it was that they held a grudge against her simply because of who she was dating. Sad as it was, Chelsea really didn't want her to leave in the midst of the divas and anti-divas war. But at the same time, she understood. After all, AJ was always missing her fiancé and skating by on matches, which made her the subject of a lot of locker room talk.

AJ quietly excused herself, leaving the two alone to meet with Tamina. She gave a gentle reminder to Chelsea which room the trio would be staying in. Roman's face fell a little. Chelsea realized quickly that he was hoping that she'd stay the night with him.

"It would be easier to stay with me, you know," he told her as they walked out the double-doors to the parking lot, confirming the thought immediately.

"I guess. I just really missed AJ while she was gone."

"Don't stay up too late painting each other's nails and gossiping," he faux-scolded, and Chelsea laughed once.

"Believe me, I'm good on that. I'm sure she is, too."

"Alright, well, let me drive you. Dean has a grueling work-out prepared for you tomorrow, so make sure you rest up."

"Should I stretch beforehand?" she quirked an eyebrow. "Because if so, maybe I _should_ stay with you."

Roman knew she was kidding, but the sexual tension was undeniable. Playing off from it, he turned to her, his chiseled features quirking his own eyebrow.

"That might be interesting. I could help you stretch _all night,"_ Roman smiled, his white teeth gleaming under the lamps in the quiet parking lot.

Chelsea smacked him on the shoulder, giggling girlishly. Then, she cursed herself for giggling.

But, even though she felt like a total fool, Chelsea was also comforted as she walked with Roman. So comfortable in fact, that she found herself slipping her hand into Roman's. Roman looked out of the corner or his eye to see if anyone else was headed to the parking lot yet. He only saw Big E, who nodded at him, ignoring the fact that he was holding hands with the darkest diva.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of his relationship. He was ready for it, of course. But he wasn't sure letting the whole locker room know quite yet was the right choice. He was also sure that Chelsea wasn't ready to let the world know either.

Part of him also worried that once Alicia figured out he had finally begun dating someone else, she'd stir up some trouble. Add her into the drama with the Total Divas, and his girlfriend's head would probably explode.

He also didn't want her to be scrutinized when she became successful down the road. Despite whether or not they were dating, she would achieve greatness on her own. Everything she'd already done was on her own without any of his help. Unfortunately, people didn't always see that—they'd see that the Shield turned out to be successful. She'd be accused of riding on their coattails. False, but a probable assumption.

And that's when he saw that rat duck behind Natalie's red car, her bleachy blonde hair catching the sheen of the moon.

 _Fucking Summer Rae._

He didn't think she saw anything, but what if she had? She had brand new ammunition to fire, and Chelsea wasn't fully prepared for the divas to pick apart their relationship, especially since it was still new. Sure, Naomi might have _his_ back, but could the same be said for Chelsea? Probably not…

Hoping that Summer hadn't seen them leaving together, he opened the door for Chelsea. She thanked him as she slipped inside. She was already searching her purse for her phone, ready to hook up her music to the car. Roman groaned. She didn't have terrible taste in music. He was more a classic rock kind of guy, and she enjoyed screechier versions with keyboard overload.

"It won't be that bad, I promise," she laughed, and she found what she was reaching for. Roman wasn't so sure and was prepared for the worst.

"I had a really good friend when I was staying…in California," she said the last part uncomfortably, and he sensed she was still embarrassed that she'd spent time in rehab. Regardless, he realized that she was trying to open up to him. So, he started the car and turned to her, showing that he truly was interested in what she had to say.

Chelsea bit her lip. She set the phone on the dock, and continued:

"She loved this band. For my birthday last year, she sent one of their CDs to the apartment I'd been staying at while I was still seeing the doctor there. Outpatient, you know..." She was really uncomfortable now. She was nervously talking in circles, and she looked away. Her head was away from him, and her hair was masking her face. Roman looked at the tune she'd chosen. Though he'd never heard of the band or the song, he figured he'd give them a try. Besides, any information he could get about Chelsea, he'd take.

"I always think of Len when I hear this," she reminisced, a pained expression on her face. He wondered how they'd fallen out of contact, but the look on her face told him not to ask. Not yet. Perhaps this Lennon girl was still serving her time in the rehabilitation facility.

Rather than the roar of Chelsea's music, violins began to softly play. Then, a gruff voice sang, off-set by a beautiful woman's voice. He had to admit, this friend of Chelsea's had pretty decent taste. The combination of the two voices he wasn't sure he'd heard before, but the man's voice...he was almost sure he had. He just couldn't quite put his finger on where.

 _Break their hold;_

 _Because I won't be controlled._

 _They can't keep their chains on me_

 _When the truth has set me free._

 _This is how it feels when you take your life back._

 _This is how it feels when you finally fight back._

 _When life pushes me, I push harder. What doesn't kill me;_

 _Makes me stronger._

 _The last thing I heard is you whispering goodbye;_

 _And then I heard you flatline._

"I like it," Roman said after the song finished, giving a nod of approval. Some more songs played, and each one was quite decent.

They were getting close to the hotel now, and he noticed Chelsea had gone quiet. He looked at her, and she looked back.

"I'm sorry. I haven't listened to this in awhile."

Taking the queue, Roman cleared his throat. "Why did you play this for me?"

Giving a half-smile, she responded, "Because if I've ever learned anything, it's to believe in myself. Even if I'm the only one believing."

"Your friend has decent taste in music," he responded, and Chelsea smiled wider. "If you knew the band she sang for, you wouldn't think so," she told him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw she was watching him.

"That rough?"

"Very rough. Think Marilyn Manson, except a girl. One of her biggest songs was called Property of Goatfucker. I promise you, you will hate it," Chelsea gave a weak smile before turning to face her window.

"Manson is creepy. And what the fuck?" he shook his head, thinking he should look up the song when he'd gotten back to the hotel. But Chelsea had warned him it was less than ideal, so he quickly put that idea to rest. It sounded terrible, anyways.

"Why would she like something like this, then?" he wondered out loud.

Chelsea thought for a moment. "Because she was hopeful," she said back, matter-of-fact. "She was consumed by darkness for a really long time. And finally, there was a light. She was so angry and carried that around. But she'd started to change for the better." She looked away and quickly wiped a stray tear from her eye. She composed herself quickly, and Roman opted not to push further. Roman was silent as he turned into the hotel parking lot.

The pair got out of the vehicle, the crisp air instantly cooling Roman. Chelsea walked to the back and slung her bag over her shoulder, even though Roman offered to carry it for her. Together, they'd walked to the sidewalk in front of the lobby doors. They were probably the last of the stars to make it to the hotel for the evening, and Roman felt disappointed again that he wouldn't be able to stay with her.

"Next weekend my brother's coming home," she said quietly, and at first, Roman wasn't sure what she'd said, or if she'd said anything at all. "Toby," she nearly whispered.

"You going to see him?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"I want to see him. I don't want to see anyone else."

"Get ahold of him. I'll go with you," he said back. Her eyes flashed, and she instantly lightened up.

"Really? Because I would really appreciate it," she said, and Roman put his free arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"For you, Chels, I would travel to the opposite side of the world."

* * *

Did she really ask Roman to stay at her lowly studio apartment in Portland? Yes, she did. Compared to Roman's immaculate home, it was laughable. But it was too late. Toby would be staying at their Mom's, so Roman could comfortably stay with her. But it was still scary to let him into the personal part of her life that she didn't like to flaunt. She cringed as she pictured her place: gray walls covered with creepy paintings of trees and blackbirds, her five hundred black t-shirts, and her mound of shoes….yikes. She was going to have to call Toby to check in and make sure she didn't have anything embarrassing laying around before Roman set foot in there.

Roman quietly walked beside her through the empty halls, not bothering to mask the smirk he wore. Chelsea's mind, meanwhile, was going a million miles per minute.

The next thing she knew, they were facing her room. AJ and Tamina were already inside. She could hear the quiet talking already, and AJ was watching…Pokemon? No surprise.

"Just a kiss goodnight?" Roman asked slowly, and Chelsea watched each word tumble from his lips. She found herself suddenly wishing that she had agreed to spend the night with him. But part of her didn't know that she'd be able to stop herself from doing something stupid, and she wasn't sure she was ready for a physical relationship. Sure, the lust was real. But she wanted to make sure the love was, too.

Besides, she liked where they were. Still a very young, teenager-like summer romance. That was where she wanted them to be right now.

"But I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked as a question rather than a statement, knowing that the Shield members had an exclusive interview for WWE's website. Aside from training with Dean, she figured it would be hard to see the other two.

"I'm sure you will," he closed in on her, his lips barely grazing hers when they heard someone clapping behind them.

"Holy shit, girl, you tamed the beast?" Seth was all smiles, his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Both Roman and Chelsea rolled their eyes, and Roman gave her a quick kiss, making his way to Seth and elbowing him between the ribs.

"See ya later, Seth," Chelsea called out. He waved at her as he tried to catch some air. He was still doubled over while walking down the hallway. She opened the door to her own room, her eyes trained on her friends. Tamina was doing some sort of yoga. AJ was sprawled out, sketching a picture of one of the Ninja Turtles.

Shutting the door, Chelsea threw her bag into a corner, saying hello to the two. She pulled out a bag of pita chips from her duffel, cracking them open.

It was silent for quite awhile, and for the first time in her entire life, she watched Pokemon. She found that AJ was sending her drawing to Phil. She noted that next to the turtle, AJ had drawn a heart-shaped pizza.

 _Aww._

"So tell me about you and Roman," AJ said finally, peering over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses.

"I mean….well, I went to visit his house," she said shyly, her face gaining some red. "It was wonderful. And as much as I didn't want a relationship at this point in my life, it's working out so far…"

AJ gave a Ric Flair "Wooo!" and clapped happily, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed.

"Sometimes I'm afraid I won't be able to balance drama, the past, my career, and a relationship. How do you do it?" she asked the black widow, and she pulled her knees back up to her chest.

"Save the drama for the shows. The past is passed. All that's left is your career and your relationship. Throw in some you-time, and us-time, and it will work out. As long as you want it to, everything plays off from each other and you'll be fine."

Chelsea considered this. When she was screwing around with Jeff, he outweighed everything, and she threw away everything for him. She wasn't good at time management, she supposed. But with Roman being a rising star, maybe it'd work out. He wouldn't be able to hang out whenever like Jeff did…and it would make the time together better.

At least, she hoped so.

Tamina came over, stuffing her hand into the pita chip bag. "So you and Roman Reigns," she smirked, shaking her head. "I always thought it'd be him and Summer," she said with a mouthful of chips.

"What makes you say that?" Chelsea had a painful pang in her stomach.

"Because she's a human leech!" AJ cut in. "It's not like she's got anything going for her. She's the type that would get together with someone just because they were stars. When she started, she flaunted her boobs and legs to a very unimpressed Randy Orton. Little did she know he was as unavailable as could be."

Tamina snickered, nodding. Hell, even Chelsea knew that one of the top stars had his eyes on only his wife and his daughter. She remembered them coming to see him win the heavyweight title, and he was so proud...

"Really though, keep your eye on Roman Reigns," Tamina's voice got strong as she swallowed her chips.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not my business, but Alicia Fox and I used to be good pals back when I started. They dated for awhile. Not long by any means, but it really left her heartbroken for a bit," Tamina gave her a solemn look, and Chelsea knew immediately she was being honest.

But the fact that it had left Alicia 'heartbroken' worried her. Chelsea didn't like the way that sounded, hiding a gulp. Roman hadn't said anything about heartbreak, just that they were both young. What did he conveniently "forget" to tell her?

She gained the courage and asked, "What happened?"

AJ shot Tamina "the look" and Tamina brushed it off. "She has a right to know," she said back.

"Know _what_?" Chelsea was growing antsy now. She had a really bad feeling about it, and she was beginning to grow more and more anxious.

"Roman isn't exactly the nice guy he paints himself to be. He ended up cheating on Alicia," Tamina said quickly. "I don't know the whole story, but I know in whatever situation, cheating is not cool."

Chelsea could've sworn she was going to puke. Her stomach felt like it had a ten-ton weight in it, and her palms began to sweat. Her Roman? The sweet, caring guy she'd spent all this time with? The one she'd opened up to and allowed him to get close to her? The one she'd let touch her? Kiss her...?

Was he seriously a cheater?

 _"Once a cheater, always a cheater,"_ Lennon's voice was echoing in her head now. She felt like she was dreaming, her head spinning.

A sudden feeling of disappointment took control. Chelsea almost couldn't believe it. She didn't really want to believe it. Obviously, Roman had a past, and that was fine. She was certainly not a saint. But he had omitted the fact that he'd been with another woman in during his last relationship—and to her, that was just like a straight lie.

Between seeing Lennon disintegrate after getting cheated on and having been the woman on the side, Chelsea thought Roman would have a lot more respect. She'd told him about the things she'd done wrong, yet he'd never bothered to tell her his darkest secrets. That was simply not how relationships worked. Though she was no relationship expert, she knew that much

It was despicable, really, and Chelsea was angry more than anything.

Once you started playing with another person's heart means you've got nothing left in yours.

But Chelsea couldn't cry. Part of her felt like this was all to ruffle her feathers, but she wasn't so sure. Her friends were watching her back and didn't want to tell her about Roman's past to hurt her. Tamina wasn't trying to upset her, but just sure she knew what she was getting into.

AJ had very clearly tried to get Tamina to hold back on this information for awhile, perhaps because Chelsea's relationship with Roman was still too new, but also because she was still very fragile.

She wanted a drink. She wanted a lot of them. She wanted to scream, to curse, to fuck Jeff Hardy until she didn't have these stupid emotions anymore. She wanted to run away from this hotel, run away from Roman, and never look back. But none of those were options, so she did the last thing she could do.

Chelsea marched right over to her duffle bag, pulled out her swimsuit, and left.

She could hear Tamina and AJ scuffling about how it wasn't their place to say anything. AJ muttered that it was Roman's business and that he should have been the one to bring it up.

Sighing as she walked away from the closed door Chelsea just angrily chuckled. Of course Roman wouldn't bring up such a scalding hot piece of his past! He'd just sit there and listen to hers, pretending he was perfect.

Fuck that.

Changing into her suit in a tiny women's locker room, she was happy to see the pool was vacant. She didn't want to attempt to swim laps with kids around. She hadn't actually taken a real swim since she'd left California, and before that; back in high school. She was on the varsity team her senior year and was actually pretty good. She'd been offered tons of scholarships. Nothing interested her. The chlorine didn't do it for her anymore. The truth was, she'd just grown bored of competing. That, and the way her teammates used to make fun of this one girl who tried her damnedest but couldn't quite get the hang of competitive swimming.

Her name was Molly, and she was perhaps the nerdiest they came, even outdoing AJ. Of course, once Chelsea quit the team and screwed over their chances of going to state, they turned their focus towards her. The bullying from her former teammates had distraught her. Chelsea had realized that everything she thought that was making her happy back then wasn't making her happy at all. Everything she'd worked for meant nothing anymore.

This change in attitude eventually led her to dye her pretty chestnut brown hair black. Then, she dumped her high school sweetheart. Following that, she made good friends with her eyeliner pencil... all to her mother's dismay.

She'd graduated school, decided not to go on to college and pursued modeling shortly after. But eventually, she'd grown bored of that, too. She'd found her place when she'd started wrestling, and truly fell in love with the art.

She was lucky to still be doing what she loved.

All the while these thoughts were running through her head, she was swimming back and forth across the pool. She swam until muscles she didn't even know she _had_ were sore. She swam the breaststroke, freestyle, the butterfly. She swam until her fingers and toes got pruny and the chlorine was starting to interfere with her breathing.

Pulling herself out of the water, she grabbed her towel and began to dry off. She decided that after her time training with Dean tomorrow, she was going to leave for awhile. She didn't really want to go to Oregon until Toby was home. It would force her to stop by her mom without him as a buffer. So, that was out of the question. She wasn't particularly homesick for her apartment. Besides, she didn't want Roman to follow her because she needed the time away from him to just think, Portland would be the first place he'd expect her to go.

No, she decided. She was going on her own mini-vacation. She had a lot of thinking to do.


End file.
